


Coming Home for Sevenmas

by RedVelvetWings



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bedsharing, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Jaime in glasses, Meddling, Mutual Pining, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 33,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21892150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedVelvetWings/pseuds/RedVelvetWings
Summary: Brienne was furious. Her father had been nagging her again whether she was bringing someone home this year for Sevenmas. Just like he had last year and the three years before that. Only this year her mouth had run away with her and she had told him that she would indeed be bringing someone home. The only problem was, she didn't actually have a boyfriend.Inspired by this tweet: Found someone on Tinder whose bio said "Need someone to play my gf during family dinner on Christmas day" we all know how this ends.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 65
Kudos: 371
Collections: Sevenmas & Other Winter Holidays





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is all supper-party's fault who shared the screenshot of this tweet with me: "found someone on Tinder whose bio said "Need someone to play my gf during family dinner on Christmas day" we all know how this ends." This happened as a result so thank her for it. The next three chapters are done and I'll be uploading daily until the 24th if everything goes well and I'll finish chapter four on time. Chapter Five might come a little later depending on how writing treats me these next few days.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this piece of Christmas fluff and have nice holidays.

Brienne was furious. Her father had been nagging her again whether she was bringing someone home this year for Sevenmas. Just like he had last year and the three years before that. For her birthday and his and every bloody holiday in between and she was just done. She was an accomplished woman. Well, she was working as a research assistant under one of the most accomplished professors in all of Westeros. She was getting her PhD and had published a bunch of articles with Catelyn on the age of heroes, ancient weaponry and battle strategy. But she admittedly didn‘t have much of a social life except for her odd lunch dates with Sansa and Margery or the even odder nights out with Sansa, Margaery and Loras with Renly as a more recent addition. So, it’s really not her fault that when her father had started asking about her bringing someone home for the holidays, her stupid mouth had run away with her.

The only problem was now she actually had to find someone she could bring home. If things had been different she might have asked Renly, but he was with Loras now, celebrating Sevenmas up in Highgarden with the rest of the Tyrell’s and her father knew that he was gay anyway.

She had come home crying in senior year when she had found out about it, and her stupid little crush had literally been crushed, and her father had been left to pick up the pieces.

No Renly wasn’t an option, and neither was Loras. She needed someone else. Someone her father didn’t know. Someone, she could fake break up with quickly.

Craigslist was out of the question with all the weirdos and creeps, but she had to start somewhere.

So, a couple of minutes ago, she had sent a plea for help into their group chat in the hopes that either Margaery or Sansa had an idea of what she could do, but so far, nothing.

Brienne was just biting her lip, pondering what other options she had while simultaneously hating the whole situation. Maybe she should just call her father and tell him she lied.

No, that really wasn’t an option either. If she did her father would just try to set her up with someone again and invite over one of his friend’s son or however else might be unfortunate enough. Ron and Hyle had been sufficient proof that her father’s taste in men was even worse than her own. No, she needed a plan and quickly, even though she hated the whole deception.

Her phone pinged with a message and Brienne scrambled over to the sofa where she had thrown the bloody thing after posting her question in the group chat, still furious with herself, but more so with her father.

Marg: Just make a Tinder profile

A few seconds later, her phone vibrated in her hand, and a message from Sansa appeared.

Sansa: That’s such a good idea.

Brie: No!

Marg: What else then? You won’t do Craigslist, and you don’t want Tinder. Is your saviour magically gonna appear? I doubt it.

Sansa: Margaery!

Marg: What? I’m just being honest.

Sansa: Still, you don’t have to be so forward about everything.

Brienne sighed. It was nice that Sansa was defending her, but Margaery was right.

Brie: She is right though. He isn’t going to magically appear and save the day. If something like that were to ever happen, it would for one of you two and not me.

Marg: Not with that attitude, it won’t. Just make the Tinder profile. There is undoubtedly going to be some dumbass that’s getting off on helping you that you can just dump directly after the holidays.

Sansa: I have to say I’m going to have to agree with Margaery. Either tell your dad or do the Tinder thing.

Brie: Okay, okay. I’m doing it now. See you in an hour.

Brienne sighed and went into the app store to download the damnable app.

She filled out her profile only writing, „Need someone to play my bf during family dinner on Sevenmas,” in her bio and uploaded the picture she had taken for the university website. Then she proceeded to swipe right on everyone until it was time to head out for their groups weekly Saturday evening drinks.

It had been a couple of days since she had created her Tinder profile and so far all she had gotten was the occasional lewd comment, men telling her it was no wonder she needed to ask someone to play her date, weird requests to send pictures of her hands, feet and legs and the occasional wild dick pic. But nothing that was actually going to help her out of this mess she had gotten herself into.

Her phone moaned in her pocket. Margaery had gotten her hands on it during their night out, had recorded herself moaning and set it as the notification tone for the app. Brienne sighed. She sometimes really hated her friends.

With the swipe of her finger, she unlocked her phone, anticipating to find either another rude comment or weird request in her inbox. What she hadn’t expected was the message actually waiting for her.

If you still need someone to play your bf, I would be up for the job ;)

Well, damn. She hadn’t expected this to work. She really hadn’t, but the sudden relief that flooded her was the best thing to happen to her since she had ended the call with her father. That was until her mind started supplying her with all the things that could go wrong in this very strange scenario. The guy might just be playing. He might be a dick out to get her hopes up before being even ruder when he told her she was too ugly for him to manage playing her boyfriend believably. He also might very well be a serial killer out to find an unsuspecting victim in a desperate woman like her.

Shit. Brienne tapped on his icon anyways and was suddenly assaulted by the most handsome man she had ever seen. Long golden waves framed his face, accentuating his strong jawline hidden in a smattering of stubble that she would give anything to run her hands along. His cheekbones were high and so prominent that he might cut glass with them. But all that faded when one looked at his beautiful green eyes, that sparkled with mischief, and the faint tug of a smile at his lips made him look a bit wicked as if he was ready to devour you like a hungry lion.

This definitely had to be a ruse. There was no way in hell this guy wanted to help her out, much less spend time with her while pretending to be physically attracted to her. No one in their right mind would believe that he wanted her, not even her father who thought she deserved the world.

She skimmed his bio, just to be sure, but there wasn’t much info on him. Just his height, he was almost as tall as her, which surprised and at the same time didn’t surprise her at all, and that he was currently at Winterfell University.

She tapped out of his profile and back into their conversation, mulling over how to respond. She didn’t want to come across as rude, but she also wanted to unmistakably clear that she wasn’t going to play along with his game.

In the end, though sarcasm won out.

Sure you are.

She was just about to lay her phone down on the coffee table ready to leave it all be until tomorrow and switch on the TV to watch the latest episode of Blue Knight and Goldenhand when Margaery’s tell-tale moan echoed through her living room. She really should keep her phone on silent mode or change the notification tone.

Yes, I am. Seriously.

Brienne rolled her eyes.

Why would you?

Without much wait, another message appeared.

Because I want to.

She groaned. This guy was probably just having a laugh at her expense, and she wasn’t having any of it, but she also wouldn’t let him have the last word.

Of course you do.

Within seconds of her reply, the tell-tale little dots appeared at the bottom of the screen, announcing that “Jaime” was writing.

Don’t tell me what I can and can’t want. Just accept that I actually want to help you.

Oh, so he wanted to play it that way. Fine.

But why?!

His reply came lightning fast.

Why not?!

She groaned again. Well, here went nothing. He seemed adamant enough in helping her. Now it was time to dish out the reason why the mere notion was laughable.

Brie: Have you looked into a mirror today?

Jaime: Yes.

Brie: See.

Jaime: I truly don’t.

Brie: Urgh. You look like you belong on a GQ cover and I look like someone assembled me out of spare parts. No one is going to believe you are actually my boyfriend.

The response she got to that was very eloquent.

?

Brienne sighed. He really must be the dumbest man in existence, but before she could reply another message came through.

I really want to help you, though.

She rubbed her hand over her face, uncertain. He seemed genuine enough. He hadn’t given up, and the worst that could happen was that she met him and he laughed at her then. She had suffered worse, she could take it. If he didn’t, she might actually be a step closer to solving her damn problem. So, in the end, she caved.

Fine, okay. Tomorrow, 7pm at the campus cafe. I want to make sure you’re not a bloody serial killer with how adamant you are on helping me.

His response was instant.

Good, I’ll be there.

She sighed and threw her phone to the other side of the sofa, hoping it would stay silent for the rest of the night. Thankfully, it did.

The next morning bloomed cold and crisp, bringing with it new snow.

Winterfell saw a lot of snow and Brienne had lived here for several years now, but the swirling flakes still held its wonder every time she looked out of the window.

She hurried out of her flat skipping breakfast as she was feeling queasy anyway and headed down to the station to catch the tram that would take her to Winterfell University.

Cold, and bedecked in snowflakes she arrived at the office she shared with Catelyn.

As she unwound the thick scarf from around her neck and draped it and her thick coat over the hanger by the door, Catelyn looked up from her computer.

“Good morning,” she greeted Brienne, but as soon as she took her in Catelyn frowned. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Brienne replied hesitantly, unsure where this was going. “And a good morning to you too.”

Catelyn was still scrutinising her. “Are you sure? You somehow look a bit off. A bit paler than usual.”

“Yes, I’m perfectly fine, just feeling a bit queasy and I skipped breakfast, but I’m going to go down get a sandwich and a coffee once I looked at the emails that have come in since yesterday.”

“Good. I really don’t want you to go to class without breakfast.” Catelyn glanced at her screen for a second before her gaze focused on Brienne again, who had by then sat down at her desk. “And tell me if you're not feeling better, will you. I don’t want you getting sick before Sevenmas.”

“I will don’t worry.”

But the queasiness that had settled in her stomach didn’t fade. Not after the coffee and sandwich, she had promised to get and not after the late lunch she had with Sansa.

Instead, she fidgeted and bit her lip constantly while she reworked the outline of hers and Catelyn's new article. She felt out of sort, and it only got worse the later in the day it got. When Catelyn finally headed home, eyeing her worriedly again, she reassured her once more that she was totally fine, even though by that point she didn’t believe it herself anymore.

“Well, take care, will you. And if you aren’t any better, stay home tomorrow. You don’t have any lectures anyway, so take it easy.” Brienne nodded as Catelyn gave her a motherly smile and pulled the door shut after herself.

She glanced at the clock in the corner of her computer screen. Almost another two hours till she could head out to meet her prospective fake boyfriend.

Brienne sighed and dug her phone out of her pocket and opened the app. Maybe she should just cancel. She really wasn’t feeling well, but then again, she wouldn’t get anywhere if she did. He was her only chance so far. Better take the fall now. 

She glanced at the top of the screen where his smirking picture icon looked back at her and proclaimed his name to be Jaime. She should probably remember that if she was really going to meet him later.

Brienne worked for another hour, replying to student e-mails and planning her next lecture, before heading out early. She really didn’t have anything else to do, and the university didn’t pay her after hours, so she thought that a nice hot cup of tea would maybe ease her queasy stomach a bit.

Bundled up, she trudged over the campus. It was quite serene and beautiful now that most of the students were already gone for the day and a nice sort of quiet hung over the buildings. Fairy lights twinkled in the windows of office and seminar buildings she passed and the Sevenmas tree in the central square already stood proud and tall, sporting the Stark colours of old, white and grey.

The quaint little café sat huddled between the larger and taller buildings like a small haven, where students met to wind down after a long day. Sevenmas music played softly in the background, and the ever-present hum of conversation lay in the air as Brienne entered.

She ordered her tea at the counter, smiling at young Podrick sitting at a table with his friends. The young man had started to work with Catelyn and her at the beginning of the semester as a student assistant, wanting to dive deeper into research and trying to get the hang of it before going into his bachelor’s thesis.

Once she had her tea in hand, she made her way over to her favourite spot by the window, flopping down into an armchair after having shed her coat and scarf.

Time passed as she sipped on her tea, watching people hurry by outside, bundled up in thick coats and scarf scurrying to get home and out of the cold. She didn’t even know what time it was when suddenly someone cleared their throat next to her.

“Brienne?” The questioning, very masculine voice didn’t register at first, much less that it was waiting for her answer or some form of acknowledgement until it asked again. “I’m sorry, are you Brienne?”

She looked up then and was met with those damnable green eyes that had stared at her just yesterday from her phone screen. And to say that the picture didn’t do him justice would be an understatement. How someone that handsome would be even more so in reality was beyond her.

“Um – yeah. Sorry, yes. I’m Brienne,” she stuttered, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. He smiled and plopped down in the armchair opposite her, lounging there like he was at home and as if he was posing for a photoshoot all at the same time.

“Well, Brienne, as you can see. Very decidedly not a serial killer.” He grinned at her, showing a hint of very white and very straight teeth.

“I think that’s for me to decide. All that has been confirmed is that you didn’t put up fake pictures of yourself.”

“Suit yourself.” Jaime shrugged, but the smile was still playing around his lips.

“So, your profile said you were studying here at WU,” Brienne started, tapping her nails against the ceramic of her empty cup.

“Well, not really. I’m doing my habilitation at KLU in history with a special focus on weaponry and battle strategy, and I came here for the vast library the Stark’s have accumulated over the years especially regarding the Long Night and the Battle for the Dawn.”

If it had been socially acceptable, Brienne would have gaped at Jaime. Hell, she would have gaped anyways if she didn’t have an ironclad hold on herself and wasn’t already way to flustered in his presence but him going all nerdy over history and more so her topics of expertise was just too much of a coincidence and not at all what she had expected. He looked like he was going to university because daddy paid for his education. He looked like he would be studying management or law maybe, but he didn’t look like a history major. Much less someone who was doing his habilitation in history.

She must have been staring because, at some point, Jaime started waving his hand in front of her.

“I’m sorry. That was just really unexpected.” He just shrugged and leaned forward, trapping her with those eyes of his.

“So, what do you do? You study here, don’t you?”

“No, not exactly. I did my master’s degree here, and now I’m getting my PhD with Catelyn Stark of the history department.” Jaime just blinked, speechless. She had probably looked much the same after he had told her what he was doing. Though to give him credit, he did recover faster than she had.

“Well, if that isn’t a coincidence. Next thing you tell me your focus of study is also – “Jaime started, but she beat him to the punch.

“Weaponry and battle strategies,” she finished for him, smiling while trying to hide her very crooked teeth.

“Well, count me impressed. At least we won’t have to lie a whole lot about how we met. We can just say I came down here for research, and we met in the library and bonded over our shared topic of research.” He waggled his eyebrows, probably insinuating something dirty, but Brienne suddenly grew all too aware of why they were actually meeting.

“Yeah, that might be a good idea,” she agreed while one of her fingers tracing the rim of her cup.

“Perfect. Well, I’m going to get myself a cup of coffee real quick, and then we can talk a bit more about this whole thing. Do you want anything?”

Brienne wanted to say no, but her cup was empty, and she could really use another one even if it was just to soothe her nerves and hide behind when things got too strange or awkward.

“Uhm…a cup of green tea would be nice.” She tried not to look at him, sure she would be drawn in by his eyes all over again if she did.

“Sure. I’ll be back in a minute.” And then he was out of his chair, and Brienne could finally breathe normally again.

The five minutes it took Jaime to return with his coffee and her tea, she fidgeted some more with her empty cup, bit her bottom lip repeatedly while spying him over her shoulder and wondering why he hadn’t laughed in her face yet. 

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked as he sat down a new, steaming cup of green tea in front of her, before rounding the table to get back into his own armchair.

“To be honest, I don’t really have one. My dad was just nagging me again about bringing someone home over the holidays, and I just snapped and told him I would bring someone just so he would stop and not invite some son of a friend over.” She sighed, knowing that she would have to come clean about what this whole Sevenmas charade would entail. “And just so you know, Sevenmas dinner is going to be on Tarth. I’ll pay your flight, so don’t worry about that, and I know it said only Sevenmas dinner, but I think we’ll have to play at this for at least two days before I can believably tell my dad that you are heading home to spend the rest of the holidays with your family or something.”

Jaime just shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. “Okay.”

“Okay? I just told you we would have to fly to Tarth and that this whole pretence would be going on for at least two days,” she repeated a bit flabbergast by his nonchalant agreement to the whole thing.

“Yes and …? Oh, and don’t worry about paying my flight,” he added, still calm and collected and not shaken in the least.

“What?”

“I said, don’t worry about paying my flight, I’ll handle it when you tell me which flight we’ll take.”

“I don’t get it.” She really didn’t. Why was he so okay with all of this? Why?

“What?”

“Why you are doing this? I don’t understand it.”

“Well, I’m not really on good terms with my family, and I would be either spending Sevenmas alone in my apartment or spending it with you. And from what I’ve seen so far, we get on pretty well, so I’d much rather not be alone.” He shrugged again as if the whole thing was no big deal. As if helping a complete stranger to fool their father into believing they were in a loving relationship was no big deal.

And just like Brienne had given in when he had repeatedly told her he wanted to help, she accepted his reasons because she really didn’t have a choice and he was right, they did get along surprisingly well, and so far he hadn’t been a complete arse, which was of real step up from some of the guys she had met. He hadn’t laughed at her, and for whatever reason, he actually seemed genuine. 

Brienne tapped her short nails against her cup again, looking up at him through her lashes. He was still smiling, his green eyes trained on her, and she felt the sudden urge to hide from that gaze because he saw too much.

As she averted her eyes, she tapped the black screen of her phone lying on the table between them. The screen flared to life, announcing that it’s well past eight by now. She should be heading home.

“Well, alright. I think that’s enough for today. I might even be convinced that you are not a serial killer, but I really have to head home now.” Brienne did look at him then, braving his green eyes and that twinkle of mischief that lived in them.

“Okay, sure. It was nice meeting you, Brienne,” he said, grinning at her.

“You, too, Jaime,” she replied before getting up and moving around her chair to get into her coat when he halted her, his hand on her arm. And suddenly he was much closer than he had before.

“Uhm…maybe we should exchange phone numbers. Just so we can talk about this whole thing, get an actual plan and maybe get to know each other a bit more. I hate that Tinder chat.” His eyes were ever so green as they looked at her, gauging her reaction.

The scent of him wafted over her, masculine and spicy, clean and crisp even though it was the end of the day and she could feel that tell-tale heat returning to her cheeks. Why did he have to be like this? Taking her unaware at every turn?

“Yes – Of course. That sounds like a good idea.” And as if he had only waited for her to agree, he pressed his phone into her hand, already on the “Add new contact” page. With shaking fingers, she typed in her number, glad that she had learned it recently for a conference she had attended, before handing the phone back to Jaime. But as his finger slid over the back of her hand, taking the phone back from her, his touch seemed to linger a second. And when she looked up to meet his gaze that smile of his looked different, softer and the glint in his eyes held had changed as well.

“I’ll text you when I get home, so you have my number as well. See you around,” he said in lieu of goodbye as he got his coat from the back of his own armchair. And then he was gone.

Brienne had just climbed into bed after having come home to an empty, quiet flat, cold and still confused about the whole conversation she had had with Jaime when her phone chimed.

She had deleted the offensive app from her phone right there at the café after Jaime had left, taking the risk of Jaime fooling her and not texting her back over having to suffer Margaery’s insistent moaning and the offensive comments one second longer. But when she had gotten home half an hour after having left campus, with still no message from Jaime she had written it all off as another prank successfully pulled on her. What was worse, though was the heaviness that had settled in her stomach. She had actually liked talking to him. Sure, he was annoying and stubborn, and she was sure that he was going to get on her nerves eventually, but she had never found anyone remotely her age, that was interested in history like she was.

She had hung up her coat and plugged her phone in to charge at her nightstand before heading into the bathroom, trying to push away the weird feeling that was taking hold of her. But now there was a message, and she was almost afraid to look. The likelihood of it being Margaery or Sansa or even her dad way higher in her mind than that of Jaime actually being true to his word. Still, she slid the phone from its resting place, waking up the screen with a hesitant double tap to the screen, casting her bedroom into an eery glow.

Her heart gave a beat and then, for a frightful second or two, stopped.

It was nice talking to you. Good night. J

Brienne blinked twice, her eyes travelling over the string of numbers making up the unknown phone number and the content of the message. And then her mind was suddenly in overdrive as she scrambled to turn on her bedside table lamp. What was she supposed to do? Should she still write back? Well, it wasn’t that late, but still. What impression would answering and not answering him leave? Would it be dismissive of her if she didn’t? Would she look desperate if she did right away?

She groaned. She really had no idea what to do. She wasn’t good with people. It was a miracle that she even had friends. Who had thought that getting a beautiful stranger to play her boyfriend was a good idea? Well, damn if it hadn’t been her own, socially inept as she was, she was now faced with dealing with the mess she had gotten herself into. She could also finally tell Margaery and Sansa about Jaime and ask them for help, but she really didn’t want to. They would make it something it wasn’t, and Brienne really didn’t need her friends needling her about the hot guy she had picked up on Tinder. So, for now, she was on her own.

Biting her lip, she unlocked her phone and added Jaime to her contacts, before opening the conversation he had started. For a second Brienne pondered what to write, tapped out a reply and deleted it again. Twice she had something written, ready to send before she deleted it again. In the end, she went with something simple.

It really was. Good night. B

Brienne closed her eyes and hit the send button, before switching off her phone and burying herself under her duvet, very much planning of not coming back up until the next morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today I give you, fake relationship planning, snow, an elderly nosy lady, delayed flights, an even nosier dad and Jaime Lannister in glasses.
> 
> Thank you to everyone that left a kudo, a comment, subscribed or bookmarked this story. You all made my day. I hope that I'll eventually get back to responding to you, but at the moment I'm glad if I manage to stay on track with posting this story so please bear with me.

But morning came, and Brienne inadvertently got up, decidedly not looking at her phone, before heading for the bathroom and a much-needed shower to get her to wakefulness.

By the time she reached the office, she had caved. She had quickly checked her phone, but there were no new messages. So, she had resumed her morning as normal. But just as she was sitting down at her desk, powering up her computer, her phone vibrated in her pocket.

Reached into said pocket, she retrieved her phone, thinking it was Sansa or Margaery wanting to set up plans for lunch later when her screen lit up, and Jaime’s flared to live.. 

Good morning. Hope you slept well. J

Brienne stared at the message for a good second or two. Or maybe it was a minute because it took Catelyn clearing her throat before she registered her surroundings once more.

“Bad news?” she asked, clearly concerned and Brienne shook her head.

“No! No, nothing really. I was just surprised,” she mumbled, still in a bit of a daze over Jaime’s message.

“Doesn’t look like a good surprise,” Catelyn mused, one of her eyebrows raised, as she look up to look at her mentor.

“Well, actually I think it kind of is.” A small smile started tugging at the corner of Brienne’s mouth as she looked down at the screen once more and then back up at Catelyn sitting opposite her.

“That’s good.” Catelyn smiled, warm and motherly just like she always did, before going back to work, leaving Brienne to brood over what to respond to Jaime.

For a few more moments, she stared down at the letters before setting her phone down, deciding to leave it for later. She had work to do, and she wasn’t paid to think of comebacks to Tinder strangers.

But Jaime didn’t stop texting. That afternoon, after she had texted back, there was another message asking her about good sources and potential authors he might look into on the topic of the night before the Battle for Dawn.

The next day he asked about her favourite weapon; Oathkeeper. The day after that about her favourite battle; the Battle for Dawn.

At first, it was just these little questions regarding their shared research, but it soon morphed into something else.

He asked whether she only drank tea; no, and whether she also watched Blue Knight and Goldenhand; yes. After that particular question, they talked for an hour about the recent plot development and whether Blue Knight would ever tell Goldenhand how she feels about him. Brienne was sceptical, Jaime believed that sooner or later the two of them would inevitably fall into bed together, confessing their feelings on the way.

That conversations was followed by a heated debate on whether female knights actually existed or if the showrunner had just made Blue Knight female for plot purposes.

So, it isn’t really a surprise when a week after they had met for the first time, Jaime burst into her office, brandishing an article.

“Wench, you have to see this!” he exclaimed, beaming and way too happy for the time of day. Brienne was just glad that Catelyn had already gone home. She would definitely not have approved of Jaime’s very unorthodox methods of entering a room.

“Look at this. It’s a new article that was published today. They found new texts down in Oldtown in a hidden storage space, and some of them were on the Maid of Tarth.” Jaime laid the papers down in front of her, pointing out various interesting bits.

“But what’s really interesting is that there was a recounting of the days leading up to the Battle for Dawn. She was knighted, Brienne. Here see. The Kingslayer went down to Winterfell to fight in the war and knighted her the night before the battle.” He pointed at the part in the text. And there black on white was the proof that her ancestor had indeed been a knight just like she had hoped. It was written, unmistakable proof.

“Jaime, this is incredible,” she exclaimed, engrossed in the article in front of her, leafing through the pages.

“Isn’t it? There is so much here for my research, but I knew you’d want to know about this.” Brienne looked up, meeting his gaze, green and twinkling with a hint of happiness.

“Thank you. This really means a lot,” Brienne said, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Sure, it was nothing.” He gave her a little smile in return, softer than it had been when they had met at the café. And then silence settled over them as they just looked at each other, both smiling.

“I – uhm – Can I keep this?” she asked, needing to fill the silence and break the eye contact.

“Sure, that’s why I brought it,” Jaime replied easily, resting his hip against the edge of her desk. “So, how much longer are you working?”

“I was actually about to finish up for today.” She stacked the article Jaime had brought and filed it away to look at again tomorrow, before busying herself with shutting down her computer.

“Great. Because I wanted to ask if you’d want to maybe come over. I have a plan on how we could play your whole Sevenmas charade,” Jaime announced, his smile turning into more of a grin.

“ _You_ have a plan?! I thought this was going to be my job, and you were just going to play along,” she exclaimed, a bit indignantly, but really more amused than anything else.

“Seeing as you didn’t have one last time, I didn’t want to leave the whole thing up to fate,” he teased, his eyes filled with laughter.

“I don’t know whether I should be annoyed by that comment,” she told him, but Jaime just shrugged, unfazed.

“So, will you come? We could pick up some take out or something if you didn’t have dinner yet.”

Brienne bit her lip. She hadn’t had dinner, but this seemed all rather quick. Him inviting her over. Having dinner together.

“Come on, wench. Don’t think too much about it.”

“Will you stop calling me that my name is Brienne.” She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Jaime had picked up that gods awful nickname after they had been talking for a few days and she had confessed she would sometimes prefer living in the olden days. He had called her “my lady” and she had only responded with a very firm “No”. He had called her “wench”, and she had gone on a tirade. Jaime had happily stuck to calling her wench after that.

“I know.” He grinned again, the arse, while tilting his head toward the door. “Come on, haven’t I proven that I’m not a serial killer by now.”

“Barely. I’m not totally convinced, but I guess I will have to take my chances. Promise you will at least kill me quickly?” Brienne joked, getting up from her desk and grabbing her bag.

“Never!” Jaime exclaimed, laughing, holding open the door for her to pass through on their way out.

They got braavosi from a little hole in the wall restaurant frequented by students that Jaime had fallen in love with since he had come to Winterfell before they headed down the street and towards his flat.

When the door swung open to reveal the rooms that lay behind it, Brienne was once more taken aback by how wrong she had judged him. She had expected sleek and high-end expensive designer décor and furniture, befitting his looks. But his flat was anything but that. It looked homey. Even though she knew Jaime had only moved to Winterfell sometime in September, his flat looked lived in. Cluttered with books and pillows and empty mugs. The centrepiece in the living room was a huge comfortable looking sofa that sported stacks of books on either side and a couple more pillows. If she hadn’t known, she would have thought he had lived here for years, not months.

“Make yourself at home. I’ll get the plates. What do you want to drink?” Jaime asked, putting his bag down by the door and shedding his coat, scarf and hat.

“Uhm – ”, Brienne started unsure, but Jaime cut in to help.

“Wine? Red? White? Beer? Tequila?” he listed, counting off the beverages on his fingers.

“Do you want to get me drunk?” she asked, squinting at him.

“I would never,” he spluttered, mock indignantly and Brienne shook her head. 

“Water, please.” She hung up her own coat and scarf, before turning around again to face Jaime.

“Good, because I don’t actually have any of that,” he laughed, and she rolled her eyes.

“Do we eat at the dinner table?” she called out to Jaime who had disappeared into the kitchen as she set the bags with their steaming food on the mentioned table.

“We can. But we could also get comfortable at the coffee table and watch the latest episode of Blue Knight and Goldenhand if you want,” Jaime proposed as he reappeared, plates and cutlery in hand.

“Okay, sure. Let’s do that.” They settled down at the smaller coffee table, Brienne setting out the plates, dividing up napkins and laying out the cutlery Jaime had brought while he went back to the kitchen to get their drinks.

They both sat down on the nice thick carpet lying on the floor, Jaime bumping his knee repeatedly into hers as he tried to get comfortable, but soon enough the TV was running, and they tugged into their food. Brienne was so engrossed in the story unfolding on the screen that she didn’t even realise that Jaime had sneakily stolen a piece of chicken from her plate, until it disappeared into his mouth, leaving behind a blinding grin on Jaime’s face.

“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m really not,” he said, by way of an explanation and Brienne just shook her head.

“You don’t have to be, you paid for all of this.” He had indeed, and she had hated it, but giving way to Jaime had seemed like the more sensible option. He had flat out refused to let her pay her food, telling her he had invited her over and would, therefore, pay for the food. Not taking any of her protests. She had given in eventually not wanting to cause a scene in the restaurant, but somehow the whole thing had left her feeling a bit off centre. 

“I know.” He had finished chewing the chicken he had stolen, allowing him to grin even wider, showing off his teeth in the process. Brienne just sighed and went back to watching the show. He really was a ridiculous man.

They watched the rest of the episode in silence, but Brienne was more than aware of Jaime’s presence next to her as his crossed legs kept bumping into hers.

“That was such a good episode,” Jaime exclaimed when the credits rolled, looking over at her to gauge her reaction.

“It was. I’m really looking forward to the next. They really build the suspense with Blue Knight and Goldenhand now facing off against the brotherhood. And Blue Knight is already injured. I’m actually a bit worried,” Brienne acknowledged, biting her lip.

“They can’t kill her Brienne. That would be like killing Talisa Maegyr in Maegry’s anatomy. It’s simply not done. I think they fight their way out and then Goldenhand is going to get her back to the monastery where Blue Knight was a season ago.” Jaime was animatedly gesturing with his hands, making his point, before looking over at her.

“That’s actually possible. The brothers would definitely help her,” Brienne conceded and Jaime smiled, as if convincing her of his opinion was a feat.

“Yes, but I don’t think Goldenhand would leave her side, not when he thinks she might die. He is probably going to tell them they are married.” He grinned, crossing his arms over his chest, hammering home the point he had been harping on since their last discussion over the show.

“But that would be a lie,” Brienne protested.

“Yes, but he thinks she is going to die. Do you think Goldenhand will care?”

“Probably not. He wouldn’t leave her side,” Brienne allowed and Jaime seemed satisfied with that answer.

“As we are already on the topic of faking a relationship's status, should we explore what we are going to do about Sevenmas?” He waggled his eyebrows, and Brienne swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.

“Sure, I’m as ready as I’m ever going to get,” she croaked, but Jaime didn’t seem to notice her sudden agitation.

“Have you given this any more thought? Like, what is okay for us to do? What isn’t? What is the whole relationship backstory? How long have we been together?”

“I thought you had a plan? Why are you asking me all of a sudden?” she asked, a bit hysterical, but trying to hide it behind her cool and calm exterior.

“Because what you want is important,” he explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and she was a bit slow for not taking it into account. “We have to be comfortable in this whole charade otherwise it’s not going to work.”

“That sounds sensible. But I really don’t know. Let’s start with something easy.”

“Okay. When did we meet? How did we get together?”

They played around with ideas for a while but ultimately settled on the library meeting Jaime had proposed in the café a week ago. They had been together since the middle of October but had met at the end of September. Brienne thought that was much too fast for her to like someone like that, but Jaime had just shrugged, giving her one of those cheeky grins and proclaimed that he had just been too irresistible for her. That had made the heat return to her cheeks in record time, and Jaime had laughed and bumped her shoulder with his.

Soon they had migrated from figuring out the finer details of their backstory to asking each other inane questions on their favourite books, movies and childhood memories and their chat had relocated from the floor to the kitchen to put away the dirty dishes and get a new round of drinks, when Jaime leaned his hip against a kitchen counter.

“You know we still have to figure out the most important part,” he said, but there was something in his eyes that Brienne couldn’t put her finger on.

“Which is?” she asked, a bit worried about what would come next, and being fixed by Jaime’s gaze wasn’t helping either.

“What we’re comfortable with.” He grinned, but she still didn’t understand.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning whether I’m allowed to do this.” He reached out his hand, sneaking it around her waist and pulling her close. Brienne’s heart stopped. They were impossibly close. Closer than they had ever been before and his eyes, his beautiful green eyes, were looking at her. Taking her in and she couldn’t breathe.

“Breathe, we can’t have you suffocating in my arms when we go home for Sevenmas,” Jaime whispered, looking up through his blond lashes. She could feel his breath against her skin, making a shiver run down her spine.

“Relax, Brienne.” She willed her muscles to loosen up, so she sagged a bit against him, but her heart was still thundering away in her chest, beating away at such a furious rhythm Brienne was sure Jaime could hear.

“Good.” Jaime grinned. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, it was just very sudden. I wasn’t prepared.” Brienne tried for a smile, hoping to conceal her internal turmoil, but she was sure her hesitant, strained smile was fooling nobody.

“That’s what I thought. So, what else are we comfortable with?”

“This is fine,” Brienne said, swallowing, her voice still a bit tight and gravelly to her own ears, but Jaime didn’t seem to notice. “Holding hands, I guess. Your hands on my waist and hips like now. Nothing below that, though.”

“So, I’m not allowed to grab your thigh during dinner? Shame.”

“Jaime!” she exclaimed, pushing at his chest, feeling the strong muscles hiding under his shirt for a split second. Jaime only grinned, that wicked little spark in his eyes, seeming unbelievably amused by her vehemence.

“Am I allowed to kiss you?” he asked, pulling her a little closer again so that his breath ghosted over her skin once more. “Just so I know,” he was quick to add when Brienne started biting her lip.

“The cheek is fine, but – ” she trailed off, her bottom lip tugged between her teeth again while her skin felt like it was on fire.

“It’s okay you don’t have to say anything else.”

“I mean if like the situation demands it, but – “ He looked at her, his emerald gaze holding her captive.

“You don’t have to explain, Brienne. It’s fine.” She could feel his thumb stroking up and down at her hip where his hands still rested, and with his eyes trained on her, it was suddenly all too much. She extracted herself from his hold and went to lean against the counter on the opposite side of the kitchen.

“Okay, I think we’ve established what we are comfortable with as well,” she declared, her arms crossed over her chest. She could still feel where Jaime’s hands had rested against her skin, only separated by the thin fabric of her blouse.

“We have indeed. I think we are really getting somewhere.” Jaime was still grinning as he grabbed their glasses. “Come along, wench. We really deserve a break from all this pretence.”

He walked past her, back towards the living room, both their glasses in hand, but Brienne kept rooted to the spot, trying to breathe through the unexpected sting. Right, this was all pretence. No matter the weird reactions her body had to him, this was all just for show and nothing more. She ought to remember that.

Over the next two weeks, Jaime kept texting her at all times of the day, asking inane questions that had come to his head while browsing in the library or cooking dinner in the evening. Some evenings he stopped by her office, always after Catelyn had left for the day, bringing her tea and ready to engage her in a discussion on history.

Jaime had told her one evening when she had asked him about his late visiting hours that his father and Catelyn’s husband, Ned, had bad history and he didn’t want to fire the embers that still smouldered years later.

Brienne had looked quizzically at him, and he had told her about the money, the company and his father’s tyranny. He had grinned in that way he had, and all Brienne had done was gape as he explained that he had told his father in no uncertain terms, that he wasn’t going to become like him and rip off innocent people, thank you very much. But even with the threat of cutting him off from his trust fund, Jaime had walked away, not looking back and Tywin hadn’t gone through with his threat, enabling Jaime to do research to his heart's content where and when he wanted as doors opened without fail with the right money. 

She had just shaken her head and taken a sip from the tea Jaime had brought her, once more surprised by the person he turned out to be.

They had also booked their tickets to Tarth. Brienne had originally planned to fly over on the 23rd catching an evening flight so she could spend all of Sevenmas with her father. But then he had called and asked whether she didn’t want to come around a day early. She had protested vehemently, saying she didn’t know whether Jaime would be up for it, but when Jaime had gotten wind of the possibility of going to Tarth’s museum if they flew over early, he had pounced on the idea in no time. So, an evening flight on the 22nd it had turned out to be.

Jaime would fly back to Winterfell on the 26th which meant three full days and a few odd hours of playing a happy couple in a loving relationship. She was sure they would never go undetected. Three days was just too much. But Jaime was cheerful and positive as ever, telling her she shouldn’t think so negative before they had even started.

And so, they set out to the airport. Brienne was grateful that they had decided to meet there instead of leaving together because it allowed her a few more moments to herself. Something which would become a rarity in the next few days.

The traffic to the airport was slow. New snow had fallen all day, leaving the streets covered in a thick carpeting of white. When she had moved here, she had thought people would have gotten used to the snow as much as it happened here, but her bus driver that day thought it was better to take it safe and crawled along the road at a snail's pace, not that other cars weren’t doing the same.

She arrived at the airport with her bottom lip bitten red from worrying whether she would still make it in time for check-in. When the woman at counter then looked at her with what could only be described as empathy, she knew she was in for another unwanted surprise.

“I’m sorry, Miss Tarth. It seems your flight has been over-booked,” the woman apologised, looking down at her computer screen and Brienne already saw in her mind's eye how she wasn’t going to get to Tarth in time for Sevenmas. “But the good news is, I can bump you up to First Class.”

She gave Brienne a nice smile, tapping away at the keyboard before handing her a boarding pass. “Here you go. I hope you enjoy your flight and I’m sorry again for the little shock.”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine. Thank you.” Brienne inclined her head in thanks and took the ticket, a bit bewildered. Something like this never happened to her. When her flight was overbooked, she was usually the one they made wait for the next one. She didn’t fly First Class, but as she peered down at the ticket she had been handed it clearly stated her name and the indication of First Class passenger. Maybe Sevenmas had come early for her.

Brienne went through security without a hitch and made her way to the gate where she instantly spotted Jaime’s head of golden-blond hair. He was sitting near the window, the sunset casting an orange-y glow on his hair, making it almost look as if it were hot, molten gold. Sevenmas trees decked in fairy lights twinkled in the corners and over the speakers, she could hear the notes of a Sevenmas song, and it finally seemed to settle in that she was going home for the holidays.

“Hey,” she greeted Jaime as she sat down in the chair beside him. “I had expected you to turn up here mere minutes before the gate closed to be completely honest.”

Jaime looked up from his phone, first taking in her probably still flushed complexion before his eyes travelled over her clothes.

“You look different,” he announced, narrowing his eyes. “You usually don’t wear a t-shirt and jeans and sweatshirts. And did you do something to your hair?” He was still scrutinising her, taking in every inch of her and it made the flush of her cheeks return in force.

“Stop it, Jaime. Yes, I look different. I didn’t bother putting product in my hair, and I didn’t feel like wearing slacks and a blouse on the bloody plane, so quit it,” she hissed at him in a low voice, but Jaime started to smile.

“So that’s what it is. I like your hair like this when it falls into your face a bit.” He reached out and flipped the wave that had fallen onto her forehead. “It somehow makes you look – I don’t know – softer?”

Her stomach swooped without her permission, sending heat coursing through her veins and making her heartbeat just that tiny bit faster.

“That’s nice, but I really don’t take styling tips from you. Thank you very much,” Brienne replied, trying to avoid his eyes by checking her phone.

“Your loss,” he said, shrugging and very purposefully bumping his shoulder with hers. “But for all it’s worth, I really did mean it. It looks nice.”

“Cut the crap, Jaime. I know what I look like, just having a few wisps of my lanky hair hanging onto my forehead won’t change that.” Jaime sighed next to her but didn’t say any more for a while until he seemed to be fed up with the silence and opened his mouth again. The man really couldn’t stand silence.

“The flight will be full as hell I suspect.” He craned his neck around, surveying the number of people that had gathered to board the flight.

“Yeah, it will be. It’s overbooked. They had to bump me up to First Class otherwise I would be waiting here for the next flight.”

“That’s nice. What’s your seat?” he asked, and Brienne dug through her pocket to retrieve the slip of paper.

“3A,” she responded as she tugged the ticket away once more.

“Well, what a coincidence. Mine is 3B.” Brienne glanced over at him, just to find him grinning at her. She would have said she were surprised, but she really wasn’t. After having learned that he had grown up with money and was still loaded, she had guessed he wouldn’t fly Economy.

“I just hope we’ll get to board on time. My dad is picking us up at the airport even though I repeatedly told him he didn’t have to. Just so you know.” Brienne glanced over at him, to gauge his reaction, but he just shrugged as if it was no big deal, though she wasn’t certain if there hadn’t been something like nervousness for just a fleeting second or two.

However, they didn’t board on time. It had started snowing outside, so densely that one could barely see the end of the gangway extending from the gate. First, their flight was only pushed back for an hour, but the snow persisted and one hour became two. And quickly after that, two hours turned into three.

By that point, Brienne was fed up with the twinkling Sevenmas trees and the insistent, cheery Sevenmas tunes floating out of the speakers. She was tired. If they had left on time, she would almost be home by now. Instead, she was stuck at the Winterfell airport with no clue when they would actually fly out.

She must have nodded off at some point because when she stirred, it was to the voice of an elderly lady.

“You two really make a lovely couple. Have you been together long?” the old woman asked, and Brienne instantly became aware of where she was. Her head rested against Jaime’s shoulder and neck, and with every breath she took, she could smell that very distinct blend of scents, dark and masculine and inexplicably just Jaime.

His hand shifted on her shoulder, rubbing her arm. “Barely a month.” The sounds reverberated in his chest, but Brienne wouldn’t dare to shift, to draw attention to the fact that she wasn’t sleeping anymore.

“Well, I hope the two of you have lovely holidays together. She must be something special if you are already going to see each other’s families.” Jaime didn’t answer, but she heard footsteps on the carpeted floor as the old woman walked away. 

Her head shot up from Jamie’s shoulder, and she couldn’t help but glare at him. “Nicely played. Already getting some practice in, I see, only you got one of the details wrong.” This time it was Jaime’s turn to flush.

“Uhm – I – You are right. I definitely have to work on that, but better it happens now than when we are with your father, right?” He grinned at her, having shed the little bit of fluster.

“Sure. But you don’t have to pretend all the time, alright? We are still here. We are still us, decidedly not in a relationship and I would like to keep it that way until we are on Tarth.” Her words were a bit harsher than she had intended, but she couldn’t help it. With the tiredness and everything that was going on, it really wasn’t a surprise. 

“Yes, sir,” Jaime responded, sitting up straight as if taking a command. “Anyway, we’ve been here for way too long and I could really use a coffee. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Brienne watched Jaime leave, keeping her eyes fixed as the red jumper clad man weaved through the throng of people until he disappeared. She was unsure what had just happened, but something had, and she couldn’t put her finger on it. 

Jaime returned eventually, without the coffee he had excused himself to buy. Brienne had mostly spent the time fiddling with her phone, rubbing her damp palms on her jeans and biting her bottom lip, trying to figure out what had felt so off about the situation earlier, but she was none the wiser when Jaime returned.

The plane left the Winterfell airport at 10.25, almost five and a half hours after their initial boarding time. Brienne was knackered and spend the whole flight sleeping only waking when the plane touched down on Tarth a good three hours later.

Jaime, for once, was silent, looking bleary-eyed and just as sleepy as she felt. His cheek sported lines from the cushion he had slept on and his hair, which had previously looked artfully tousled, was now in disarray. To Brienne’s utter annoyance, he was still the most handsome man she had ever seen.

They collected their bags quickly enough, Jaime lugging a huge suitcase from the belt, that had her question how many clothes he must have brought to warrant that kind of baggage. But soon enough they were finally heading through customs and in the direction of the exit.

The milk glass door slipped open to the hall beyond, and she was prepared to steer Jaime towards the cabs, when she spotted her father, standing taller than anyone else. Well, damn, she hadn’t expected that.

He waved at her over the few people that were also gathered at arrivals, still smiling and looking alert even though it was shortly past two.

“Welcome home,” he said as he pulled her into a hug and for a second everything else seemed to fade away as the strong arms of her father enveloped her. He was the only person she let her guard down for, the only person next to whom she didn’t feel freakishly tall, or freakishly broad.

“Hey, dad,” she mumbled into his shoulder as her arms circled around him. “You really didn’t have to come and get us. We could have just taken a cab. It’s the middle of the night.”

“Nonsense. I told you I’d pick you up and when you texted that there was a snowstorm in Winterfell and you couldn’t take-off I couldn’t sleep anyways.” She pulled back to look at her father’s face, old and wizened and kind, framed in greying goldish-brown hair.

“Thank you.” She looked over her shoulder to where Jaime had observed the scene, leaning on the handle of his bag, still looking rumpled and as if he were going to a photo shoot for a Sevenmas spread at the same time.

“Anyway, dad, this is Jaime.” Jaime strolled closer, wheeling his bag behind him.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir. Brienne has been talking a lot about you,” Jaime said, extending his hand in greeting. Selwyn’s eyes passed over Jaime, taking him in top to bottom before taking his hand.

“So, you are the boyfriend Brienne has been hiding. I don’t see why. Anyway, call me Selwyn.” Jaime nodded as they shook hands. “Okay, let’s get out of here. You two look tired, and I could use a bed as well.”

With that, Selwyn grabbed Brienne’s bag and headed in the direction of the parking lot, expecting Brienne and Jaime to follow.

“He seems nice. Remind me again why I’m here?” Jaime asked in a whisper, clearly hoping Selwyn wouldn’t hear them over the hustle and bustle of the airport. Brienne just bumped his shoulder, hoping to shut up any further questions.

“What?” The indignation was clear in his voice, but Brienne only glared at him, willing him to just shut up.

They loaded the bags into her father’s car and were ushered into the backseat. Brienne had wanted to protest, but that would have seemed odd, so she held her tongue, scooting onto the seat next to Jaime who looked happy even despite the early hour.

Her father started the engine and whizzed them away onto the road towards Evenfall. It would be another half hour before they were home and Brienne dreaded the coming minutes sure her father would use them wisely. And as if he had sensed her thoughts, he glanced at them in the rear-view mirror.

“So, how long have you two known each other?” he asked, his eyes on the road again.

“We met back in September a few days after I had come down from King’s Landing. I happened upon Brienne in the library, and we quickly realised we had a lot in common. Mainly our interest in history.” Jaime smiled and gave her an overly soppy look in her opinion before he laid his hand on top of hers where it had been resting between them. “It wasn’t easy convincing her my intentions were true though. Brienne is a tough nut to crack, but we got there eventually.”

“She sure is. But it isn’t a surprise, is it? With what she has gone through.” Brienne wanted to fade into the seat. Jaime’s hand still laid on hers, his thumb stroking absentmindedly over the back of her hand, making her heart beat faster in her chest and now her father had mentioned what had happened in high school. Wonderful.

Jaime looked over at her, having felt her stiffen as her father had mentioned her past, and she could see the questions swirling in those green eyes of his, but she implored him to just play along, to not ask the inevitable question of what had happened.

“It sure is,” Jaime replied, his eyes still fixed on her, as if to say, “see we can do this.” Brienne only hoped her father hadn’t been privy to the silent conversation they had had.

After that, her father asked about their work. Selwyn seemed particularly intrigued by Jaime’s topic for his habilitation, so much so, that by the time they arrived home they had barely talked of much else.

Together they lugged the bags into the house, sitting quiet and serene on top of the cliff as the stars sparkled overhead.

“Okay, I’ll head to bed. I prepared Brienne’s old bedroom. The two of you will be comfortable enough there.” Selwyn smiled and started taking the stairs to the first floor.

“But dad – ” she exclaimed, trailing off as soon as she realised what she was doing. She had hoped her father would have a strict “no sleeping in the same bed”-rule, but it seemed she was sorely mistaken.

“What?” he asked, stopping his ascend up the stairs.

“Nothing. I just thought you wouldn’t be okay with us sleeping together.” She shrugged going for nonchalance.

“Brienne, I won’t tell my adult daughter that brought her boyfriend home for Sevenmas that she isn’t allowed to be alone with him in the same room. It’s none of my business, and I suppose you have been alone together in a bedroom more often than I want to know.”

“Dad!” she exclaimed, but he just smiled and headed up the stairs.

Jaime chuckled behind her. “Well played. You almost busted us.”

Brienne couldn’t help but glare at him over her shoulder. “Shut up,” she hissed, grabbing the handle of her bag and heaving it up the stairs with Jaime shortly behind her.

When she opened the door to her room and flicked on the light, it was as if she had only left for the weekend. Her desk was still stacked with old books, her bed still loomed big in the centre, and the carpet under her feet was still as soft as she remembered.

Thank the gods that she had that giant bed. Her dad had bought it with her when she hadn’t stopped growing, and her feet had started hanging off her old one. She had argued it was way too big for one person. He had argued she wouldn’t stop growing for a while, which she hadn’t. Now though, the space meant Jaime and her might fit comfortably without touching, which would spare one of them from sleeping on the ground.

“Well, that’s a damn big bed. Anything, in particular, you want to try with all that space, babe.” He nudged her, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, and Brienne really badly wanted to hit him.

“Just shut up,” she told him, her voice brimming with exhaustion. “I’ll take the bathroom first. You can change here. I’ll knock when I come back.”

Brienne grabbed a t-shirt, a pair of shorts and her toiletries from her bag and headed out of the door, putting some distance between her and the ridiculous man she had allowed into her life. Leaning against the sink, she took a few deep breaths before going through the motions of her night-time routine. When she was done, she quickly hopped under the shower, needing to rinse off the dirt of the airport and the plane.

By the time she returned to the room Jaime was lounging on top of the covers, his torso clad in a KLU shirt and his legs barely covered by his boxer shorts. He was reading a book, the bedside table lamp casting a warm glow over the room. What irked her the most though were the glasses perched on Jaime’s nose. The round, brown horn-rimmed frames should have looked ridiculous, but they didn’t. They made him look intellectual, less like the model and more like the academic he was. That wasn’t to say that they diminished his general good looks, no, they only seemed to add to it. It was all rather infuriating.

“You can have the bathroom now,” Brienne announced and Jaime looked up from his book and straight at her. She swallowed.

“Thanks. I won’t be long.” He closed the book, sliding a bookmark onto the page and got up from the bed retrieving his own toiletries from his bag.

“There are towels in the cupboard under the sink.” He nodded in response, taking off his glasses and setting them on top of the book he had deposited on the nightstand.

Once Jaime had slipped out of the room, Brienne turned down the bedcover and got under the sheets. She would leave Jaime the side he had picked. The one closer to the door. The side she usually slept on when she didn’t decide her bed was all her own and slept right in the middle of the huge mattress.

She had just gotten comfortable, her duvet tugged up to her chin, rubbing her cold feet together while the room was still cast in only the glow of the lamp on Jamie’s bedside table when the door creaked, and he slipped back into the room.

For a second she heard Jaime rummaging in his bag, but she didn’t bother to see what he was actually doing. When the bed didn’t dip in the tell-tale sign of him sitting down on his side, she turned around.

Jaime stood leaning against her desk, arms crossed over his chest, looking at her.

“What?” she asked, her voice already laced with sleep.

“Where, oh wench might I sleep? I don’t want to presume that you will invite me to your bed,” he teased, but it was too late, and all Brienne wanted was to go to sleep and not wake up for several hours.

“Will you just get into bed and not be a dick about it?” He looked at her quizzically, as if he was unsure for a second whether she meant it or not.

“Just keep your hands to yourself and stay on your side,” she told him, turning back onto her side and tugging the duvet back up to her chin. The bed dipped, the duvet rustled, and soon enough Jaime lay next to her even though she couldn’t see him, having opted to sleep with her back towards him.

“I hope to the gods you don’t snore, wench.”

“If anyone is snoring it won’t be me. Now shut up. I’m tired.”

“Good night, Brienne,” he whispered, but she could hear the hint of amusement in his voice, and her only response was an almost inaudible “mhm”.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On today's menu, we have more pining, museum visits, a sword, some mistletoe (not the way you think), more nosy dad, tree decorating and some revelations. 
> 
> Once again thank you to everyone that left a kudo, a comment, subscribed or bookmarked the story. You are all giving me early Christmas presents over here. So, thank you.

Brienne woke the next morning to clear white light streaming through the window. She was warm and content, snuggling a bit deeper under the blanket to relish the warmth for a few more minutes before getting up. It’s only when she shifted, pulling the duvet higher, that she realised what the reason for the warmth was. Jaime. His back was pressed to hers, and she could feel the muscles of his shoulders shift as he breathed, and suddenly she grew still. She had never woken up with a man in her bed. She hadn’t woken up with a man in any bed, period, and the sudden realisation that Jaime was very real and very much in her bed, had her heart pounding.

Yesterday, well no this morning really, when they had finally gotten to her childhood home she had been so tired, way too tired to process what was going on, but now, in the bright light of morning with her mind ready and alert, and Jaime still pressed to her back, she was very aware. Aware of every inch of Jaime at her own back.

She swallowed thickly biting her lip. Nothing had happened. He was just lying there, next to her, sleeping. Everything was fine, but her heart was still running a marathon in her chest.

She opened her eyes with the intention of directly getting out of bed when Jaime stirred behind her, and she hesitantly glanced over her shoulder. Jaime was lying on his back now, looking up at the ceiling, but his green eyes found hers as he felt her gaze on him.

“Morning,” he mumbled and his voice, still thick and husky with sleep, stirred something deep inside Brienne.

“Morning,” she replied hastily, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She only noticed then that snowflakes were swirling in front of the window, dancing.

It had been years since it had snowed on Tarth. Not since she had been a child, but the thick flurry of white flecks was definitely snow.

“Did you sleep well?” Jaime asked from behind her.

She hummed in response and collected her things to head for the bathroom.

“I’m going to go wash up,” she announced and was out of the door in an instant not leaving Jaime the time to respond.

When she reached the bathroom her heart was still pounding and she was biting her lip again. Why was he affecting her like this? It was definitely just because he was good looking. That had been like that with Renly. That and that he had been kind to her. Kinder than anyone else had ever been. But Jaime was infuriating. Infuriating and annoying and sometimes smarter and more knowledgeable than he knew, but still. She didn’t even like him that much for god’s sake. He was just handsome. Damn it. Damn her weak body for finding him attractive.

She brushed her teeth with vigour, hoping for the squirming in her stomach to fade, but even after scrubbing at her face for a good minute or two, leaving it red, the feeling was still there.

Reluctantly she padded back towards her room, the scent of freshly brewing coffee wafting up from the kitchen where she could already hear her father working on breakfast.

Brienne pushed open the door, expecting Jaime to still lie sprawled across her bed, rumpled and unkempt, but instead, she was greeted by a very different picture. Jaime sat, his back against the side of her bed, his legs crossed, his laptop balancing on his knees and once more sporting his glasses while tapping away at the keyboard. When he hear the door fall shut behind her though he glanced up at her.

“Feeling more like yourself again?” he asked, the mirth in his eyes sparkling.

Brienne only looked at him askew and dropped her pyjama on the bed.

“What? You bolted on me,” Jaime accused from the floor, looking up at her through his eyelashes, laughter evident in his voice.

“I didn’t. It’s cold.” Brienne was now making the bed, which was exceedingly difficult with Jaime blocking her path every so often.

“Sure,” he laughed while Brienne glared at him and he finally scrambled up from the floor, shutting his laptop. “Anyway, I’m going to go get in the shower.”

Jaime threw his laptop on the newly made bed and set his glasses on the nightstand before heading out of the room.

When the door clicked shut, Brienne let out a breath, slumping down onto the chair at her old desk. She had to snap out of this, whatever it was. After Sevenmas Jaime would move on with his life and she would still be in Winterfell. Getting squirmy feelings in her stomach over a devastatingly handsome man wouldn’t help her any.

She sighed, rubbing her hands over her face and got her laptop out of her bag for a quick check of her mails before going down for breakfast.

There was a message from Podrick asking about an assignment she had asked him to do and a couple of questions of students regarding the paper they were tasked to write over the holidays. She had just finished responding to Podrick and had opened the first of the student mails, when the door to her room swung open again, revealing Jaime.

His hair was still damp from the shower he had taken, dripping down over his still exposed chest. Small drops of water still clung to his neck, sliding down over the smooth golden skin he had been hiding under his clothes. The only thing he did in fact still wear was the towel he had slung around his hips, which was riding dangerously low, revealing the sharp jut of his hip bone and the muscles in-between. It really was a rather indecent display.

“Jaime,” Brienne yelped, probably a few seconds too late, he was definitely aware of her looking at him, as she finally averted her eyes. “Will you please put on a shirt or something. Now!”

She heard the rustle of clothes and a few seconds later, Jaime’s smooth baritone announced, “You can look again, wench.”

He was indeed clad in a white t-shirt and boxer briefs when she turned around again, but the smile plastered onto his face was still very much indecent.

“Liked what you saw, didn’t you?” Jaime raised his eyebrow, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Get your mind out of the gutter and get dressed. I’m going down for breakfast.” She briskly closed the lid of her laptop and stalked out of the door, slamming it shut behind her for good measure, but her heart was still pounding in her chest, and her cheeks felt warm. Damn him.

Down in the kitchen, her father set a mug a freshly brewed coffee in front of her. She looked up, smiling at him in thanks, and he just wordlessly squeezed her shoulder. Together they set the table, and soon enough, a fully-clothed Jaime joined them.

Breakfast itself turned out to be a rather silent affair for which Brienne was entirely grateful. Jaime’s antics had worn her out, so her father not questioning them about their not-relationship really was a blessing. Though she did notice him look at them rather often, the look in his eyes as if he were assessing something. Figuring something out. That did have her a little worried, but it would also just be that her father wasn’t quite done yet scrutinising her make-believe boyfriend. She had been impressed with how quickly he had seemed to accept Jaime, but maybe that was just his strategy. Luring Jaime into lowering his guard to suss out what he really was about.

Brienne was pulled from her musing as her father started to talk. “So, you said you were going to the museum. I head there now, so I could take you if you want.”

“Thanks, Dad, but I really have to finish replying to some e-mails, and I believe Jaime also wanted to do a bit of work before we head out.” She looked over at Jaime in question, who was just taking his last bite of breakfast and therefore only nodded in agreement. “And anyway, it snowed. It’s been years since that happened, so I’m going to enjoy it. The cliffs covered in snow are just a sight to behold.”

Her father laughed. “Haven’t you had enough with all the snow you are used to getting up in Winterfell?”

“No, this is different.” Brienne shrugged, taking a sip from her coffee.

“Okay, then. I guess I’ll see you later.” He stood up and put his dishes in the dishwasher before heading out the door.

Brienne got up herself, taking hers and Jaime’s dishes to the dishwasher as well.

“Do you want another cup of tea or something? I can make a fresh pot if you’d like. Or we could switch to tea.” She had closed the dishwasher and was looking through the cabinets, assessing which teas her father still kept in the house.

“Sure, let’s have some of your tea,” Jaime said from behind her, and she startled for a second.

“Damn it, Jaime! Don’t do that,” she admonished, looking over her shoulder at where he was now leaning against the counter, just like he had back in his own kitchen. Her heart was once more thundering away in her chest.

Brienne grabbed her favourite loose leafed tea which her father thankfully still kept around even though she rarely had the time to come around and put on the kettle. She had just measured out a few spoons full of the leaves and dumped them into the pot, when Jaime announced out of the blue, “I really like your dad.”

“What?” she asked as she turned around, her brows knit.

“You do that a lot don’t you?” Jaime teased, that grin back on his face as he looked at her over the rim of his mug.

“What?” she asked again, even more confused and Jaime laughed.

“That!” She threw him a shrewd look before turning around to pour the now boiling water into the teapot.

“What I said was that I like your dad. He is nice. Much better than my own ever was, and it’s very apparent how much he cares about you,” Jaime explained, having crossed the kitchen to stand next to her.

“You only like him now because he isn’t nagging you about anything,” she told him, but there was a hint of amusement in her voice.

“You seem to be handling him fairly well,” he joked as he looked down at the teapot standing between them on the counter.

“I’m a grown woman. What can I say.” Brienne shrugged and got two cups out of the cupboard.

She filled the two cups with tea, and they headed upstairs. She had offered Jaime to use the kitchen or living room as a make-shift office for a few hours, but he had declined, telling her he rather liked the carpet on her bedroom floor and was fine with that.

They sat together in rather companionable silence, filled by the tapping of fingernails on keys and the occasional slurping of tea. Jaime had beamed at her when he had taken his first tentative sip of his still hot beverage and had announced that he loved it. His cup hadn’t lasted long, and he had soon headed down to get some more of the leftover from their pot.

By the time two o’clock rolled around, Brienne decided it was time for a break. She had responded to the few e-mails that had been sitting in her inbox and read a couple of articles that had recently come out, jotting down interesting aspect and things she wanted to discuss with Catelyn after the holidays.

“Should we head out as well? The walk to the museum might take us a bit with the snow.” Jaime looked up from his laptop, his green eyes rimmed in brown again.

“Sure,” he smiled and shut his laptop.

They bundled up in their coats, putting on thick woollen hats and gloves to keep warm and set out to Evenfall museum.

Outside snow was still lazily swirling in the air, and the feathery little flakes soon clung to their hair and clothes. Jaime’s knit red hat was soon disappearing under a cloud of snow, and his nose had become rosy.

“I won’t ever get used to the cold, I think. It’s so rare that it snows in King’s Landing and in Casterly I never got used to it, but damn I should soon, or I’ll freeze to death.” He shivered in his long heavy coat, his hands buried deep in his pockets.

“This is nothing,” Brienne told him, striding briskly in front of Jaime. “This is a nice light snowfall, here in the Stormlands it’s usually snowstorms that we get. And where have you been all these weeks in Winterfell? It snowed way heavier up there.”

Jaime shrugged. “Tugged away in the warm library. I only ever left to go home or see you.” A snowflake landed on his nose, quickly melting away, and Brienne shook her head.

“Well, I hope being cold was worth it because this was the reason I thought walking over might be nice,” Brienne said as she rounded a gathering of trees and suddenly the vegetation stopped, giving way to a rocky beach. The usual grey stone now covered in white, little puddles between rock formations frozen over. And above all the cliffs. Bold cliffs shooting up into the sky crowned in snow with icicles decorating their faces like long, shimmering diamonds.

Brienne could hear Jaime hold his breath for a second as he took it all in. It really was something else. Like a painting out of a winter storybook. Something that shouldn’t really exist. But here it was, hidden and tugged away, only for those to see that knew where to look.

“Wow. Yes, definitely.” Brienne raised her eyebrow looking at him where he was now standing next to her. “This was definitely worth being cold for.”

“I told you it would be,” she said, bumping her shoulder against his and when she glanced over at Jaime he was grinning again.

They eventually got to the museum. The snow had lessened, and the sun had showed her face from time to time, letting the snow sparkle in a multitude of colours. Jaime hadn’t shut up about how beautiful Tarth was, which had amused Brienne immensely. It had been nice to see how excited he had grown over her home, taking in the beauty of the landscape so changed by its white cover.

“I really can’t believe you’ve never been to Tarth before. As a fellow historian with all the history Tarth has to offer, I really thought you’d have already been here,” Brienne finally revealed as they had sat down in the museum café for a hot chocolate to warm their frozen limbs.

It eerily reminded her of their first meeting, tugged away in the corner of the little café as they were, both nursing a mug filled with warm, chocolatey goodness and perched in two mismatched armchairs.

“Well, Oathkeeper is interesting and all, but there isn’t much here on the Long Night or the Battle for Dawn. Sure, the Maid of Tarth was part of it, but there is staggeringly little we know about her, do we? And yes there is a lot of history here with the old house of Tarth – “he trailed off, leaving his sentence hanging in the air for a second, but Brienne could see the gear churning behind his eyes.

“You are a descendant of house Tarth,” he stated, wonder in his voice as if that information was news.

“Well, yes, I am. So?” Brienne shrugged, but Jaime still looked at her, his head cocked to the side.

“You never told me. I didn’t know. But that at least explains your obsession with the Maid of Tarth and Oathkeeper.” He smiled, taking a sip from his mug.

“Hey!” Brienne exclaimed. She could feel the tips of her ears getting hot, and this time it wasn’t from the cold. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I guess it just slipped through. Speaking of I don’t think I know your last name either.”

Jaime shrugged, trying for nonchalance, but his smile turned sheepish. “Lannister.”

“Oh, damn you. You are no better than me. That article you brought over had information on the Kingslayer. You are keeping an eye out for your ancestor as well,” she accused, and Jaime raised his hands in surrender.

“I’m not saying I’m not. It’s funny though that’s what’s the most prominent for you. Others would have gawked at me and then thrown themselves at me.”

“Don’t get too full of yourself, Lannister,” she told him, and Jaime laughed at her dry delivery.

“I’m not promising that,” he declared and set his mug down on the table between them. “Come on. Let’s go have a look at that sword of yours.”

“It’s not mine, Jaime,” she admonished, setting her mug down as well.

“Technically, it is though. As I presume your dad didn’t just go to the museum for fun but is actually the curator here, thanks for not giving that information either, and you are a literal descendant from the woman who carried that sword, I think it’s suffice it to say that it indeed is your sword.” Brienne blushed and picked up both their mugs, returning them to the collection point.

“But it’s not,” she repeated, but Jaime didn’t seem to care.

“Nothing but technicalities,” he insisted, his green eyes sparkling with mirth.

They headed for the exhibition. Glass cases and roped off sections were evenly spaced out in the first room they entered, and Brienne breathed in the familiar scent. She had basically grown up in these walls as much as she had at home, her father taking her as often as he could and she knew most of the regular exhibits like the back of her hand. But it was always something special around Sevenmas as the typical scent mingled with pine as wreaths and pine garlands, sparkling in the old colours of house Tarth, decorated the rooms. To top it all of there was always a little exhibition on the winter traditions of old and the history of those celebrated today.

Brienne was so engrossed in the displays and the familiar atmosphere that she startled when Jaime appeared next to her, a soft little smile on his face as he looked at her, and slid his hand into hers. Taken by surprise by the gentleness and suddenness of his touch, she wanted to pull away for a second, but Jaime’s grip on her hand held.

For a fleeting moment she looked down at their clasped hands, her pulse speeding under her skin, as Jaime twined their fingers so that every one of hers was settled between one of his.

“Probably better we keep up the happy couple act here seeing as your father might come around any second,” he explained as he leaned in, whispering against her ear.

Brienne wanted to protest, telling him that maybe she wasn’t into PDA. That they didn’t have to play a lovey-dovey couple that couldn’t keep their hands off each other. That people would just stare at how mismatched they looked together. She didn’t though. She just looked at him, saw his soft, warm smile and those green eyes that only looked at her. And maybe, just maybe she really liked the weight of Jaime’s hand in hers.

They wandered the exhibition hand in hand. Sometimes when they would walk between rooms, Jaime would swing their hands far and wide, eliciting a laugh from Brienne, before she shook her head.

He often asked in-depth questions on some of the exhibits, clearly interested in the less known background that surrounded them and Brienne was happy to oblige and tell him everything she knew.

They had been surveying the exhibition for almost two hours when they finally came to the heart of it. Oathkeeper. Displayed on a stand hidden inside a glass case and roped off for good measure.

Brienne had once been allowed to hold it. To look at it up close when her father had given her permission after hours. She still remembered the day vividly. Of how the sword hilt had pressed into her hand, leaving behind little marks of the filigree worked into the handle. The rubies shimmering in the light as if there was a fire alive in their depth. And the beautifully folded Valyrian steel, still sharp after centuries of not being used or sharpened. She had been able to see every ripple, every intricate little detail that had gone into the sword’s creation, now seeing it again in its glass case it still looked magnificent, but it wasn’t the same.

“It really is beautiful,” Jaime exhaled next to her, his voice filled with reverence as he took in the craftsmanship of the sword.

They took a step forward, his gaze focused on Oathkeeper and his hand slid out of hers, leaving it suddenly cold. But she had been so transfixed by the look in his eyes, full of wonder and appreciation, that she hadn’t been able to move. Hadn’t been privy to what was going on around her. She thought she must have looked much the same as she had seen it the first time when she was little and then again when she had been allowed to touch it.

“I definitely understand why this is your favourite now,” he told her, looking at her over his shoulder. “It’s just so intricate, and the craftsmanship is beyond comprehensible. It’s very Lannister, though.”

He gave her a cheeky grin. “I mean the lion head on the pommel. The rubies. It basically screams Lannister gold, let’s be honest.”

“It does, but it’s not surprising considering everything we know about it.” Brienne shrugged, stepping closer to the case. Her arm momentarily brushing against Jaime’s and he tangled their fingers together again without hesitation.

“I always wondered how she got it but after we now know that she was knighted by the Kingslayer he probably gave it to her after he lost his hand.”

Jaime glanced over at her, laughing. “Are you insinuating my ancestor was hot for yours?”

“I was doing no such thing,” Brienne protested, but Jaime just kept laughing.

“Well, I can’t blame him. If the Maid had your eyes, no one would have been able to resist.”

“Stop it, Jaime!” she exclaimed, probably a bit too loud as some of the other visitor’s looked over at them.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised, his voice going for grave, but the laughter was still there. “I meant it though.”

“No, you didn’t. Just shut up.” She could feel the squirming in her stomach returning, weird and foreign, but also warm and fuzzy, like the prickling of champagne and the first sip of her favourite tea after a long cold day.

They pursued the museum some more, wandering into the seasonal exhibition, though Brienne tried very much to steer clear of the huge mistletoe that had been hung as part of the exhibition and had lots of happy young couples, some clearly still in their teens, mingling around it.

When she had been younger, she had sometimes dreamed that someone would take her to the museum and kiss her under that mistletoe. Then she had met Renly, and her dream had sported him taking her, but it had never been meant to be. The old woman, Roelle, her father had hired as her babysitter when she had been younger, had told her so repeatedly and until now she had been right.

Jaime steered her around the displays, guiding her here and there as he looked at old carol books and displays of traditional Sevenmas feasts from all over Westeros. Once or twice she caught him eyeing the mistletoe as well, his eyes shining with something Brienne couldn’t place.

“Want to head home? We still have to make the trip back, and it’s already pretty dark outside,” Brienne asked once they had finished their round of the winter traditions exhibition and were back on their way to the foyer.

“Sure. Back into the freezing hells of Tarth,” he announced, cheerily and walked towards the cloakroom, tugging her along.

Once they were bundled up into their coats and scarfs and hats once more, they stepped outside. The sun was only a barely visible splash of orange and red on the horizon, fading swiftly, but the snow had ceased, the wind though was still going strong.

“Bloody Stormlands,” Jaime muttered, raising his shoulders against the wind and Brienne had to hide the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth behind her scarf.

“Come on, we’ll take the quick route home. There isn’t much to see in the darkness anyway,” she said and started walking, hoping Jaime would follow and sure enough, she soon heard his boots crunching in the snow.

“There is a quicker route? Thank the gods for that, wench,” he sighed in relief and the smile behind her scarf grew a little wider.

“Still, not a wench. My name is Brienne,” she responded, but with less conviction than she used to.

“I know, Brienne,” he smiled and strolled ahead of her and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes and take a few long strides to catch up with him.

She only realised when they were standing on the front porch of her home that Jaime’s hand had found hers again, his wool clad fingers intertwined with hers. She hadn’t even noticed it had happened, so familiar had the weight of Jaime’s hand against her own become during the hours spend at the museum.

Jaime seemed unfazed when she extricated her hand from his, instantly missing the weight now that she had noticed it had been there in the first place, to unlock the door and let them in. Snow rushed into the hallway along with them, but a cloud of warm air welcomed them both, warming them instantly.

They shed their coats, hats, scarves and gloves, strewing rapidly melting snowflakes over the wooden floor that Brienne quickly wiped away.

“More tea or hot chocolate to get warm again?” she asked as they had relocated to the living room still bare and missing the main attraction.

“Yes, please. I’d take another cup of your tea if it isn’t too much to ask,” Jaime replied as he plopped down onto the sofa, sprawling out as if they had been on a massive hike instead of leisurely wandering an exhibition at a museum.

While the kettle was on Brienne spied into the fridge, surveying what her father had bought. She would have to talk to him about what to do for Christmas Eve dinner tonight. She hoped she wouldn’t have to make a run for the store tomorrow if they were missing something. She really hated needing to brave the throng of people out to get some last-minute Christmas shopping done.

The kettle clicked, announcing the water had finally come to a boil and Brienne let the fridge door fall shut with a satisfying thud. She poured the water into the already waiting pot on the counter before lifting the tray containing the pot and two cups and returned into the living room.

Jaime was still sprawled over the sofa, looking more like a god than a human in the warm glow from the lamp in the corner, heating Brienne’s blood under her skin as she allowed her eyes to linger for a second or two before he noticed and she averted her gaze.

They had tea in companionable silence, both cradling their cups between their hands to get warm again, but true to form Jaime had to start talking at some point even if it was just to praise the tea and ask her where he could get his hands on some for himself.

Brienne told him about the little family-run tea shop and their innovative and one of a kind blends, with her favourite being, Evenstar, the one they were currently drinking.

“That sounds really nice. I don’t suppose they are open tomorrow, are they?”

“No, they usually don’t open on Christmas Eve. Not enough customers.”

“Damn. I won’t be here when the shops open again. What a bummer. This is really nice, and I would have loved to have a look around.”

Brienne bit her lip, thinking. She would still be here. She could go and at least get him some of the Evenstar blend. “I’m still here,” she offered hesitantly, looking over at him, gauging his reaction. “I could bring some back with me if you’d want.”

His eyes lit up at the suggestion. “Would you?”

“Of course, after everything you are doing for me the least I can do is get you some tea. If you want I can get some other ones as well if you tell me what you usually like.”

That launched them into a discussion of tea, and different flavours and Brienne learned that Jaime usually wasn’t one to drink a lot of tea. She laughed at that, thinking about how enthusiastic he had been both this morning after breakfast and now. Jaime had just smiled and shrugged.

They were still deeply engrossed in their conversation when her father came trudging in, bringing with him a new gust of cold air and a flurry of snowflakes, that settled in to melt on the carpet and wooden flooring.

“Hey, Dad,” Brienne called out when the front door fell shut, and her father’s head poked into the living room a few seconds later.

“Hey, you two. Did you have a good time at the museum?” he asked as he unwound his scarf from around his head.

“We did. Do you want a cup of tea? There is still some left in the pot.”

“That would be nice,” Selwyn said from the hallway and Brienne got up to fetch another cup so she could pour him the remaining tea.

When she got back to the living room, her father had taken the armchair and was talking to Jaime.

“I don’t think that sword will ever see the light of day. I tried a few times, but it was no use and probably never will,” her father explained, but the look in his eyes was melancholic.

“What are you talking about?” Brienne asked, as she sat down the teacup in front of her father and took her place next to Jaime on the sofa.

“Oh, nothing really. Jaime asked whether I had ever tried getting my hands on Widow’s Wail seeing as it was forged from the same blade as Oathkeeper, but as you know, I have given up on that futile quest.” He picked up his cup and took a sip. “Thanks for this.”

“No problem,” Brienne responded, but her gaze was fixed on Jaime sitting at the other end of the sofa, looking stricken. It was something she had never seen on him before. But then he looked over at her, and there was something in his eyes, setting them on fire, changing his expression to something Brienne would say resembled well-suppressed anger.

“Excuse me. I have to make a call,” he excused himself, before getting up and heading up the stairs.

Selwyn eyed the doorway through which Jaime had so quickly disappeared for a moment before his gaze focused on her.

“I bought the Sevenmas tree, by the way. It’s out front on the porch so we can set it up and decorate after dinner.” He set his cup down on the coffee table and rearranged himself in his armchair. Brienne instantly knew what was going to happen next. She knew her father too well. The way he held himself and the look in his eyes, so she braced herself for impact.

“I’m really surprised. Why did you hide Jaime for so long? Why didn’t you want to bring him around? He is nice. Well mannered. He clearly likes you, and he is smart and shares your interests. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were putting on a show.” She swallowed with how accurate that last statement was without her father even realising it. Sure, he was himself, they didn’t have to play that but still. They were playing him anyways.

“Dad,” she began feeling the blush slowly blossoming on her cheeks, but that was to be expected. At least he wouldn’t find that suspicious. “It’s complicated. We haven’t been together long, and I didn’t want to spring it on him all of a sudden. He has a family of his own, so I wouldn’t have asked if you hadn’t started nagging me again.”

“Nagging you, young lady?” he asked, one eyebrow raised in question.

“Dad, you know what I mean,” she protested, but her father wasn’t listening.

“All I am is worried about you. You know that. I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I know that, but – “she trailed off, not knowing how to finish.

“What, little star?” he asked softly, trying to soothe the agitation that was still coursing through her veins.

“It just reminds me of the fact that I am alone,” Brienne admitted before realising her mistake and hastily adding. “Well, it used to. Not anymore, but it’s still weird, dad.”

Selwyn laughed, and Brienne looked at him askew.

“Oh, darling, I’m sorry. I just don’t understand how it’s weird, as you said, that I worry.”

“Well, you wouldn’t ask about my sex life would you, but it’s okay to constantly ask me whether I have a boyfriend or not. Why do I have to be reduced to that?” she stated seriously, but her father was only laughing harder. “Dad!”

“I’m sorry. I truly am,” he laughed, trying to stifle the laughter but ultimately failing. “Just know that from now on you won’t have to worry about that anymore. Now you have Jaime. I like him. He seems like a really good guy.”

“How would you know? You barely talked to him,” Brienne questioned and instantly realised her mistake. She wouldn’t question her father’s judgment of her real boyfriend if he said he liked him, would she now.

As suspected, her father raised his eyebrow in question once more. “It’s in the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching.”

Her heart began to race without her permission. Her father must have been seeing things. Jamie wasn’t looking at her like anything. Certainly not with whatever regard or sentiment her father said he had seen in those green eyes.

“O-kay,” she stuttered, unable to form a more coherent response. She was speechless, and so the only viable tactic was to change the subject altogether and hope they both forgot this ever happened.

“Well, anyways. Now that that’s out of the way. What are our plans for dinner tonight? And we really need to talk about tomorrows dinner as well,” Brienne began, and thankfully her father went with the sudden change in topic and explained what he had had in mind for dinner tonight as well as his plans for Sevenmas Eve dinner.

They were already working in the kitchen when Jaime came down the stairs again. He looked a bit wrung. As if the phone call he had made had taken a lot out of him.

“Sorry I took so long. Had to call my family,” Jaime explained as he entered the kitchen and Brienne’s eyes instantly focused on him. “Can I help with anything?”

He had said he wasn’t on good terms with his family, so was it just a cover-up lie or had he really called them. By the way he looked, it seemed entirely possible.

“I think I can handle dinner from here. You two could go out front a get the tree inside so we don’ have to do that after dinner,” Selwyn proposed while stirring a pot.

“Sure, no problem,” Jaime responded and headed back out into the hallway.

“Are you okay?” Brienne asked in a low whisper, once they were safely out of earshot of the kitchen.

“Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Jaime – “ she trailed off, unsure. She wanted to offer to listen, to help if she could, but it felt like too much. A step too far.

“Really, don’t worry,” he said again, this time looking at her while he said it to make her believe, but there was something in his eyes that made her hesitate to think he was telling the truth.

They got the tree inside and set it up in the corner of the living room, but Brienne kept an eye out for Jaime, still worried. But he smiled and joked and helped set the table after they had finished with the tree and it seemed as if his trip upstairs had never happened.

Selwyn presented them with a lovely dinner that was eaten in its entirety before their conversation turned to Sevenmas Eve dinner and the needed preparations. Her father actually had a pretty decent plan of what they were going to make. Some of Brienne’s favourites and some of his own while Jaime seemed excited over the prospect of some traditional food local to Tarth.

“So, well probably be spending most of the morning and early afternoon prepping for dinner that night. I’m sorry that will be incredibly boring for you, Jaime, but at least you can get some work in,” Brienne apologised, looking over to him at her right side.

“Nonsense, I’ll help. I know my way around a kitchen as well as anyone, so I’ll at least be able to chop some vegetables or stir a pot,” he said with a smile, directed first at her and then her dad.

“Jaime, you really don’t have to – “ Brienne started, but her father cut her off.

“That’s lovely Jaime. Thank you for offering your help. With a set of extra hands, we’ll get dinner prepared in no time.” Her father smiled back at Jaime and Brienne had the feeling that the two men had reached some kind of agreement that she wasn’t privy to.

“Well, if that’s settled. Let’s get these dishes in the dishwasher so we can get to decorating that tree,” Selwyn added, and they all rose to do as he said.

After Brienne and her dad had carried multiple boxes of baubles and fairy lights up from the basement, they had started on the tree.

Jaime was perched on the sofa, his feet tugged under his but, as he watched her and her father dance around the tree as they strung several strings of fairy lights around the otherwise bare tree.

So far, it had been a hassle. Some of the lights had been broken and had needed replacement and the tree her father had bought stung, the needles jabbing into their skin when they made a wrong or to forceful move. But now the lights were finally on the tree, and as her dad plugged in the power strip, the previously bare tree shone with a multitude of small, white lights.

“I’d say we did a good job with that,” her dad declared as he came clambering back from behind the tree and surveyed it critically.

“Well now that they are on sure, but I really could have gone without the stabbing,” Brienne muttered to herself, but her father had clearly heard her and raised an eyebrow at her moaning.

“I think it looks lovely,” Jaime chimed in, still sitting on the sofa, rather than participating.

“Come on, you can help now. Enough baubles to hang to warrant an extra pair of hands.” Brienne was looking at Jaime, seeing him hesitate for a split second before he got to his feet and walked over to where they were standing.

“Is there a colour scheme I have to adhere to or do we just go haywire on the tree and drape it in baubles as we wish?” Jaime asked, looking down at the open boxes by their feet containing a wide variety of stars and spheres and other nick nags to hang on the tree.

“Well, my dad always hangs the star which goes on top and then we hang this somewhere up high.” She lifted a figurine out of the box still wrapped in a kitchen towel for protection. She revealed the figure beneath for Jaime. A wintery rendition of the mother attached to a string, ready to be hung on the tree. It was one of the few things of her mother’s that were still around. She had bought it the Sevenmas before Brienne had been born. The Sevenmas before she had died. They had hung it every Sevenmas since.

“Everything else doesn’t matter. Hang whatever you like, wherever you like,” Selwyn finished as Brienne had drifted off with her thoughts, looking down at the figurine in her hands.

As announced, her father hung the star, and she hung the mother on the topmost branch. For a second, she and her father just stood there, taking a moment to remember, even though she had never known her mother, she somehow still missed her. Missed the presence she might have been in her life and the love her father had lost when she had been ripped away from them.

Jaime just stood next to her, probably not comprehending what was going on and only her father’s touch to her arm finally brought her back to reality.

After that Selwyn put on some gaudy Sevenmas tunes everyone could sing along to, though the only one humming along was her father and the baubles and stars in the boxes slowly dwindled. They were almost done when Jaime tried to reach a branch high up in the tree but came up short.

“This has to go on that branch. It’s too empty,” he announced when she came over to help him in his endeavour.

“Okay, let me – “ Brienne said, stretching up to where the bauble was hanging from his fingers. Her fingers brushed over his, relieving them of their ware before she stretched the inch that was missing to deposit the bauble on the branch Jaime had indicated. She took the tiniest of steps forward to hook the string over the branch and suddenly her front was plastered to Jaime’s back. She could feel his muscles in his shoulders shift as he slowly breathed in and her blood was suddenly singing in her veins, making her aware of every inch of him pressed to her, sending her heart racing again.

As quickly as she could, she finished what she was doing and fell back onto her feet, instantly taking a step backwards. In any other circumstance, she would have apologised, but her father was right there, and she was supposed to be comfortable with this kind of contact. Hell, for all she knew, she was supposed to do things like this on purpose to initiate contact not shy away from it.

“Thank you,” Jaime said with a soft, cheeky smile on his face, as he took a step back to stand next to her and survey the tree. “I think this turned out really nice.”

“It sure does,” she agreed as he took in the finished tree, glittering in azure and gold and rose and a variation of other colours. But when she looked over at Jaime, there was that look in his eyes again. Something akin to sadness or reverence. Something she couldn’t quite place, but felt deep to her core. But just as soon as it had appeared, it was gone again, just as it had before.

“I’m going to go head to bed. I need to be fresh and ready for tomorrow. Goodnight.” Her father announced after he had surveyed the tree as well and found it to be very nice.

Brienne could hear him trudge up the stairs and then the closing of his bedroom door in the distance.

“Should we head up as well? I’m fairly tired after our snow walk,” Brienne proposed, before the realisation of what that really meant finally settled in again. Sharing a bed. Again. And this time she certainly wasn’t tired enough that she was just going to fall into bed and sleep like the dead.

“Sure. I could use a bit of sleep as well with the short night we had yesterday,” Jaime agreed, and they were off as well after Brienne had unplugged the Sevenmas tree, dousing the living room in darkness.

She took the bathroom first once more, hoping that when Jaime came back, she would already be safely tugged into bed and didn’t have to face him again. Maybe if she was lucky, she would just drift off to sleep before he came back.

She was, however, disappointed. When Jaime came back into her room, he was once more clad in a t-shirt and briefs, and she was still very much awake. The mattress dipped as she stared at the ceiling and the scent of Jaime’s soap enveloped her as he lay down on the pillow next to her and flicked off the light.

“Goodnight,” he mumbled into the darkness, before turning on his side and away from her, but Brienne kept staring at the ceiling. Her heart was still running away in her chest, and as she had so often ever since she had met Jaime, she was biting her lip.

Jaime took all of this in stride. He touched her and looked at her and smiled at her as if it was nothing. As if it was the most normal thing to do. To take her hand, or tell her, her ancestor was irresistible if she had her eyes. How he managed to make it all so real was beyond her. How it came so easy to him while she second-guessed every move she made. Every time she reached out. Everything she said before it left her mouth and even then she sometimes said what she shouldn’t.

Why then did her heart stutter and run away from her every time he touched her? Why did she blush every time he said something nice or slightly indecent when she knew it was all for show? A show she had asked him for. They were nothing more than friends at best and acquaintances at worst.

And then there was that look in his eyes today, so different from the fire or the happiness that usually sparkled in their green depth. He had shrugged it off easily enough, putting on a brave face after he had come down from his call, but she had seen it in his eyes again when they had put the fairy lights on the tree. It was something like sadness, or melancholy even. As if he wasn’t there but somewhere far away reminiscing over a memory long lost. It worried her, especially the presumable call he had made. Why would he reach out? He had often enough eluded to how much he hated spending Sevenmas with his family. How much he felt estranged from his father and sister especially, but he had never elaborated on the reason why.

She could ask him now, under the protection of darkness. Could ask if he really was okay and tell him that she was here if he needed to talk. Just like she had wanted before.

“Jaime?” she asked hesitantly, chewing her bottom lip while a small part of her hoped that he was already asleep.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, his voice a bit slurred. He must have been on the brink of falling asleep, and she cringed.

“I – uhm – Are you – Are you okay? I mean really okay?” she stuttered, and she felt him shift next to her on the bed.

“Yes, I told you I was fine,” he insisted, his breath ghosting across her skin, letting a shiver run down her spine.

“Yes, I know, but you looked – I don’t know – sad, earlier. First, you came down from your call all ruffled and then when we were decorating the tree you had that look in your eyes – “ she trailed off, hoping he understood.

Jaime sighed and she more felt than saw him rub his hands over his face. “Damn, was it that obvious. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t. It’s okay. I just wanted to make sure you were alright and that you know if you need someone to talk – I’m – I’m here to listen. Just so you know.” She was gnawing on her lip, hoping she hadn’t overstepped. 

“Thank you, Brienne,” he said and took her hand in his, squeezing it for good measure. “It’s – um – it’s complicated. My mum – she died shortly after Christmas – “ he broke off for a second and Brienne couldn’t help but squeeze his hand back, twining their fingers together, for once feeling the pain with him. “This year it’s 25 years, and my father is making this huge spectacle for the charity he named after her.”

Brienne was completely flabbergasted. “Jaime, why aren’t you there? Why are you here?”

He laughed, low and cynical, but gripped her hand that much tighter. “Because it’s all a fucking scam. He does this huge gala for Sevenmas Eve where he invites people from all over Westeros, high society and everyday people and then goes on to extract their money with some emotional message or another while all he does is put half the money in his own damn pocket.”

Brienne was even more speechless after that. Everything that came to mind sounded blatantly obvious or just plain bland.

“It’s all about money and power and how to keep people in their places, getting money to the people that matter. My mother would have hated that.” He fell silent for a moment as if thinking. “ All I remember of her is that last Sevenmas we spent together. I remember her laugh at Cersei and I as we hung up baubles in red and gold. I remember our excitement as we pressed our hands against my mother’s belly. I remember that light in her green eyes Sevenmas morning as we unpacked our presents. Everything else is gone.”

“And now my father is making a show out of Sevenmas every year in her name, even though she wouldn’t have stood for any of what he is doing now. All I want is to be as far away from all of them as I can so they can’t find me. All I want is to cherish the memories I have and seeing you and your father putting up the fairy lights – It brought them back.” She tried to make out Jaime’s face in the dark, but only fuzzy, blurry lines illuminated in the starlight coming through the window greeted her.

“I’m so sorry Jaime,” she started, but Jaime just stroked his thumb over the back of her hand.

“Don’t be. It is what it is. I learned to live with my family or lack thereof. And my mother – It’s been a while, so I’m okay. I really am.”

“But your father – Isn’t there anything we can do?” she asked, still not over the fact that Tywin Lannister presumably used his wife’s charity to line his own pockets or that of his friends, allies or people that needed to be kept quiet.

“No, he is too smart to leave a trace. Believe me, I tried when I found out, but there is nothing we can do,” Jaime explained, and even though he tried to hide it, Brienne could still hear the tones of defeat in his voice.

“I’m sorry, “ she repeated, unable to think of anything else to say.

“Me too,” he whispered, closer than he had been before. “I’m just glad that I get to spend this Sevenmas far away from all of them and that I’m not alone. So, thank you.”

“Don’t be silly, you are doing me a favour here not the other way around,” Brienne rectified, but Jaime just squeezed her hand again.

“I’m not so sure about that,” he insisted his voice low and soft. “Goodnight, Brienne.”

“Goodnight, Jaime. Sleep well,” she whispered back, and Jaime hummed in response, but while he soon drifted off to sleep, his breathing levelling out, Brienne lay awake for long hours after he had drifted away. Her hand still in his.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's chapter includes misunderstandings, realisations, more meddling dad, a helping of angst and more mistletoe.
> 
> Chapter Five will hopefully come to you by the end of the week if everything works out, just to let you know that there'll be a bit more time until I post the last chapter.
> 
> Once more a big thank you to all of you leaving a kudo or a comment and those who bookmarked or subscribed to this story. I love you all and I hope you are all having a very merry Christmas.

The next morning dawned with a bright blue sky, letting the ice crystals that had formed at the edges of Brienne’s bedroom window sparkle.

She shifted, warm and content, snuggling deeper under the cover to take another minute to cherish it before the day would inevitably come rushing in. Someone mumbled behind her, stirring the strands of hair draped over her neck, and the arm that was slung over her waist pulled tight, pressing her to a chest.

Suddenly Brienne was wide awake, her eyes staring straight ahead at the window as Jaime shifted behind her again and pressed his chest into her back, sighing contently.

Well damn. Her heart was running a marathon in her chest again, and that squirming feeling had returned to her stomach. For a second it was hard to breathe. What was she supposed to do? Getting out seemed like an impossible task without waking Jaime up. Gods, this would be so embarrassing.

Jaime shifted again and was now nuzzling her neck, making goosebumps prick up all over her skin. And then his hand started stroking up her side, wandering over the cotton barrier between his fingers and her skin.

Her senses heightened, and she became aware of every point of contact between her and Jaime. The whimper that inevitably escaped her when Jaime pressed his lips to her shoulder and then to the juncture where her shoulder met her neck really couldn’t be stopped.

That’s when Jaime froze. His hand on her hip halting in its caress and for a second it seemed like he had even stopped breathing. And then, without warning, the warmth she had grown accustomed to was ripped away from her and she lay alone.

“I’m so sorry, Brienne. I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry,” he apologised, but she didn’t want to hear any of it. If Jaime’s sudden and visceral reaction to her proximity did one thing, it was hammering home the point that Jaime actually wanting to hold her hand and be close to her was just a daydream, no matter what her father had said. Jaime didn’t look at her like anything special.

She clambered out of bed, grabbing a fresh change of clothes and headed to the bathroom, trying to breathe through the stinging pain that had lodged itself in her chest. Gone was the squirming, warm feeling, but breathing was hard none the less.

Slamming the bathroom door shut behind her with vigour, she tried to will down the lump that had formed in her throat. Tears were stinging her eyes, threatening to well over, but she wouldn’t cry, not over this. She had been bullied and ridiculed before. It was nothing new. She wouldn’t cry just because it had happened again, just when she had let her heart hope. Just when it had seemed like he had opened up to her, let her in, just as she had shown him parts of herself. But it had all been – nothing – a show. A part he had played.

She looked at herself in the mirror over the sink. The strong jaw, the lanky blond hair she usually wore pushed back. Her crooked nose, which she had broken, twice, and her too big and wide mouth. No one could look at that and like it. No one but her father could look at her and love her.

Defeated, she shimmied out of her clothes and got into the shower, letting the warm water rush over her. And if the water that rained down from above mingled with the salty drops of her tears, no one was the wiser.

Like a coward, she didn’t go back to her room, but went straight downstairs to the kitchen where her father was once again making breakfast and set down a cup of coffee in front of her when she plopped down onto her chair in the kitchen. She knew it was stupid and childish to avoid Jaime, but she needed the extra few minutes away to refocus and calm herself.

“Did you sleep well? You look a bit under the weather this morning,” her father observed as he took her in from the stove where he was stirring the eggs.

“Yeah, rough night. Couldn’t sleep,” she replied, trying for a smile that really didn’t work because her father just looked at her even more worried.

“Everything alright? Trouble at work? Trouble in paradise?” he questioned, his brows knit.

“No, no it’s nothing like that, just stress,” Brienne explained, rubbing her hands over her face trying to will the tears that were threatening once more to go away.

She could hear the thumping of feet on the stairs as Jaime made his way down to the kitchen and then his greeting came from behind her, cheery as always, “Good morning.”

He took the chair next to her and Brienne heard the tell-tale sounds of her father setting down a mug before Jaime as well before it was once more lifted and he hummed in appreciation.

They had a quick breakfast of bacon and eggs and toast before they all converged in the kitchen to start preparations on Sevenmas Eve dinner.

Brienne was in charge of preparing the dough for their bread while Selwyn set Jaime to the task of chopping vegetables for the soup.

They danced around each other in the small kitchen, passing things here and there, and brushing hands and arms and fingers. Sometimes Jaime’s touch would linger for a second as he looked at her, but she never met his gaze, instead concentrating on the task at hand. Because suddenly every touch stung.

His fingertips caressing the back of her hand still send a shiver down her spine but lodged that dagger in her chest a tiny bit deeper. His hand on her waist when he needed something and had to shift her to the side so he could reach past her, still made her skin tingle, but tighten the grip around her heart.

She hadn’t even realised how much he was touching her, casually, without her noticing anymore, because she had become accustomed to the brush of his fingers and the weight of his hand on her waist or hip. Now though she shied away when she anticipated his touch. Tried to keep contact as brief as possible.

Time didn’t seem to move, and the preparations stretched on unimaginably long. At some point though, Jaime stopped reaching out. Stopped letting his fingers brush against hers when she handed him something, but when she glanced over at where he was working, she saw something in his eyes that she didn’t recognise. It wasn’t the sadness from yesterday, but there was something in his eyes that made the usually vibrant green seem cloudy and murky and dark. As if the usually lush green forest had been steeped in darkness.

“Well, I think preparations are done,” her dad announced sometime later as he looked down at his phone. ”Oh gods is that the time. We’d better get ready for the sept if we still want to make it in time.”

They headed upstairs after having made sure that everything was in order for later. Putting away dough to rise, the roast to rest and Jaime’s desert to chill in the fridge.

Brienne was just picking out the clothes she had brought for Sevenmas Eve when she heard the door click shut behind her.

She turned around, clothes gathered to her chest and saw Jaime leaning against her closed bedroom door, his arms behind his back.

“Can we talk for a second?” he asked, hesitant as he looked over at where she was standing.

“Jaime, not now, we have to get going,” she almost whined. She really wasn’t in the right mind to hold any kind of conversation at the moment, much less the conversation she was sure was going to come.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry about this morning, okay? You’ve been off ever since and I want you to understand – “ he was trying to explain, but she had heard enough. She didn’t need him to spell out that it had meant nothing. That he didn’t want her like that. That he had been embarrassed about it.

“Yes, yes, I get it, okay? Can we move on?” She was impatient to get on with it. To be done, so she could go back to the bathroom and take a deep breath and wrestle her feelings back into the box where they belonged.

“Brienne – “ he started again, but she just rolled her eyes.

“It’s fine, don’t worry. I get it, “ she interrupted him again.

“Are we okay then?” Jaime asked, and if she didn’t know better she would have almost thought she saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes, but that couldn’t be right.

“Yes, sure,” Brienne replied, shrugging as her throat closed up.

Jaime pushed off her door and walked the few steps towards her until he stood right in front of her.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” he asked, reaching out for her hand still clutching at the stack of clothes she was pressing to her chest.

Brienne wanted to shy away from the touch again, but she allowed it this time. Her traitorous heart craving to feel the weight of his hand on hers.

She only nodded in response, not trusting her voice to not betray her and Jaime gave her one of his smiles in return, squeezing her hand.

“Good, because just as you said yesterday, I’m here if you need someone to talk.” She wanted to believe him. Wanted to give in to the temptation that this was real, but she had finally woken up from this dream she had been in. He wasn’t really her boyfriend. He wasn’t really her anything. As much as he smiled at her. As much as he touched her. His body had shown her the truth this morning in the way he had shied away to distance himself. And even though her heart wanted to believe him, she was smart enough to know better. The world hadn’t changed. It never would. And girls like Brienne Tarth didn’t really have boyfriends like Jaime Lannister.

They walked the short distance to the sept bundled up in their thick coats, but the wind had lessened, and the sky was slowly starting to darken, dousing the sky in patches of red and pink and peach. Snow crunched under their boots, and by the time they reached the sept in Evenfall, their noses and cheeks were tinged with a rosy hue.

Jaime had taken her hand again, and she had allowed it, again, but just because her father was there, watching and chatting along as they walked, but she had caught a glimpse of a frown on her dad’s face as he had looked over at them. Jaime most probably hadn’t noticed, but she had. The knit brow and strange look in his eyes a tell-tale sign, she was just wondering what he was so caught up about. Had he realised it was all just a scam?

But he didn’t said anything on their way, just kept sneaking glances over at them, studying Jaime from time to time. Jaime’s eyes had returned to their natural, shimmering green that stole one’s breath away if one wasn’t careful. The murkiness from before swept away by the wind. She was still curious what had caused that strange overcast, even though she knew she shouldn’t.

The sept was already filled with people. Familiar faces and those Brienne didn’t recognise, and her father was soon off making the rounds and greeting everyone he knew. Brienne stayed back with Jamie at her side, surveying the throng of people. She hated these large, social gatherings where everyone would gawk and look at Selwyn Tarth’s freakishly large daughter that was still single.

Her grip on Jaime’s hand must have tightened without her noticing because he turned to look at her, blocking out all the other people.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice calm though she could detect a hint of worry.

Brienne shrugged. “I don’t really care for large social gatherings.” She was trying for nonchalance, but her grip on Jaime’s hand was still tight, turning her knuckles white.

“Then why are we here? We could have stayed back. To be honest, I’m not really a religious man. We could have done something else if this makes you uncomfortable.” She glared at him, taking a deep breath.

“Because it’s tradition. We always come here, and I like the service. It’s just the people – “ she trailed off, and Jaime surveyed the room. She could see it on his face when he saw the looks some people were throwing in their direction and the hushed whisperings others were undertaking.

He sneered, a rather new expression on his face for Brienne. “This is disgusting,” he stated, looking at her. “Has it always been like this?”

“I grew up here. One would think they have gotten used to me, but no, it’s always like this. It’s worse now with you here,” she stated matter-of-factly, but Jaime had shifted closer, pressing the entirety of his arm against her side.

“Gods, sometimes I hate people. It’s the same with Tyrion.” Brienne blinked trying to organise her knowledge of Jamie’s family, but the only thing that came to her upon hearing that name was that Tyrion was the only member of his family Jaime still had regular contact with.

The words fell from her lips without permission. “Why? You only ever told me he is your younger brother.”

“Oh, sorry. Tyrion was born with dwarfism. He is missing those critical few inches you might wish to get rid of.” Jaime smiled up at her. “So, I’ve seen what that’s like. You are both more than what you look like, but sadly not a lot of people see that. They only see the exterior, the flaws. That which makes you different, easy to single out. Even though there is so much more to you than that. My brother is the smartest person I know. Ambitious and relentless, but most people don’t ever get to see it, because they don’t bother. I guess it must have been similar for you.”

Brienne’s throat was suddenly tight again, overwhelmed by how well he understood. Why did he have to actually understand? Why did he have to be kind and considerate under that godlike exterior? It would be so much easier to dismiss him if the person underneath all that beauty were different, but through the cracks of his beautiful exterior shone a character that endeared him even more to her. Why did she have to fall in love with someone so unattainable?

The realisation of that very thought hit her slowly. Was she really in love with him? Brienne glanced over, taking in Jaime’s face. His sharp jaw covered in stubble. His high cheekbones. The gold waves framing his face. His smile, soft and private. And those green eyes. Always capturing her. Always seeing more than they should.

If she would have been honest with herself, she would have realised the thrall he had had over her from that very first meeting. Heck, probably even before that when they had first talked via Tinder. But with every word, every kindness, every new facet she saw of him, she had fallen a little bit deeper, a little bit harder until she wasn’t able to deny it anymore, even though it hurt, just like it had back in High School with Renly.

She swallowed, her throat dry, as she tried for a smile. “Yes, it has been,” she replied in a hushed voice, not able to look at him. Not now. Not when she finally knew what the hell had been going on. Not when she knew that this was all a game. Not real. And Jaime didn’t really want to hold her hand or be close. It was all just for show.

They walked into the sept, being engulfed by the scent of incense and pine as they joined the rest of the people gathered for the service. Jaime stayed close to her, his hand on her back and when she chanced a glance at him, she saw that his expression was harsh, as if he dared anyone to make a comment on them together. But the look in his eyes, more like the lion she had seen all those weeks ago, kept the usual people away that swarmed towards her with advice and patronising questions.

As Jaime and Brienne joined Selwyn at the spot he had picked among the gathered crowd the Septon walked in, and a hush fell over the sept, but Brienne’s mind kept reeling, Jaime’s hand still firmly pressed to the small of her back, her side pressed into his.

The service was beautiful. The Septon spoke on the god’s and their meaning for today’s society, translating the stories of old into examples even teenagers were likely to identify with. But Brienne had particularly enjoyed the singing. It had always been her favourite part about the service, but today it had been special. Pressed to Jaime’s side she could feel the sound reverberating in his chest and even though he had claimed not to be a religious man, he had sung the odd song or two, just like everyone else. Most of the time, though, he had hummed.

She had glanced at him the first time it had happened, surprised by his partaking, but he had only smiled, as if to say, “Well, I’m here now so I’ll make the best of it.” The little spark of fondness that had blossomed in Brienne’s chest had been stamped out immediately, in the hopes of doing damage control on what Jaime had already done to her.

They went home the same way they had come, trudging through the snow. It was dark by the time the service was over, but the clear day had turned into a clear night, and the stars sparkled over their heads. A multitude of lights, big and small, bright and dim and when Jaime looked up, just as Brienne had seconds before he pulled her to a halt.

“This is incredible,” he said, his voice hushed, producing a cloud of white fog.

“You know, these are always there, right?” she questioned, a bit sarcastic and Jaime glared over at her.

“Yes, thank you very much, I know that, but – It’s been ages since I saw the stars like this. In King’s Landing, I live in the heart of the city, no luck seeing stars there.” His voice was full of reverence as he kept surveying the night sky.

Brienne could hear the crush of snow under her father’s boots as he trudged on, looking at her over his shoulder with a smile as he left them be. Let them have this moment to themselves, probably thinking that they would have some lovey-dovey moment that should stay between them.

“Brienne,” Jaime said, calling her attention back to him. He was looking at her now, his green eyes capturing her again, making her a bit weak in the knees and her pulse sped up just that tiny bit.

“I – uhm – “ he started, but he averted his eyes, glancing down at his hands. Brienne thought that was rather unusual for Jaime, looking down, being tongue tight, as if what he wanted to say didn’t come easy. And it suddenly dawned on her, this was it. He was going to spell it out for her. Tell her again how this morning had been a mistake. A natural reaction of his body. That he didn’t actually want her or liked her. Damn.

So, she steeled herself, pulled that makeshift armour around herself that had protected her against so much and waited for the punch to hit home.

“I wanted to say– “ he looked up glancing at her, his bottom lip between his teeth. “ Thank you.”

Brienne blinked, gobsmacked. What had he just said?

“I mean it. This – here – has been the best Sevenmas I had in a long time, so, thank you.” He smiled that soft, warm smile that made the queasy feeling return, which she now surmised must be butterflies.

She was speechless. Utterly and completely bowled over. Here Brienne was, thinking the other shoe would finally drop and Jaime went and thanked her. Her! She hadn’t even done anything apart from dragging him out here to the island she had been born on and introduced him to her overly nosey father. Still, there he stood, his breath clouding in the cold night air, the stars sparkling above his head, and his cheeks and nose rosy from the cold, and he was thanking her.

“Jaime,” she breathed, unable to come up with a more eloquent response for now, but he just smiled and took her hand once more.

“Come on, we’d better head home where it’s warm, you are nearly as red as a tomato from the cold,” he teased, and suddenly everything was back to normal. She laughed at the jap, and let him lead her in the direction of home, following the footsteps her father had left behind. The red blotches on her cheeks though were probably not the result of the cold, but Jaime seemed none the wiser.

Upon their return home, Selwyn was already busy in the kitchen, finishing the dishes they had prepared that morning. The Sevenmas tree twinkled in the room next door and two cups of steaming tea set on the kitchen table.

“Hello, I see you made it home alright,” her father grinned, looking at them over his shoulder as they entered the kitchen. “Those to cups of tea are for you. Get warm and sit down for a moment in the living room. After you can come back and start setting the table. Sounds good?”

“Thanks, Dad,” she said, smiling up at him and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before taking one of the cups and heading for the living room, Jaime on her heels.

They sat together in silence, both in their own thoughts and for once Jaime stayed quiet, sipping his tea and looking at the Sevenmas tree in the corner. Sporadically, Brienne glanced over at him, unable to supress the urge. He seemed thoughtful, so different from his usual smile and exuberant self.

She was looking at him again after having stared at the tree as well, her cup pressed to her lips when Jaime turned, and his green eyes met hers. A slow, soft smile started blooming on his face, reaching his eyes and let them shimmer like the stars had outside.

He reached out, taking the hand that wasn’t currently holding her cup to her lips. Brienne wanted to pull away. Her father wasn’t here, Jaime didn’t have to do this, there was no one they had to fool right now, but she allowed his touch, warm and familiar, making her pulse to race again.

She was in too deep now. Past the point of no return. All she could do was enjoy it while it lasted. Cherish Jaime's smiles and soft, fleeting touches and hope that picking up the pieces after he left wouldn’t destroy her.

They returned to the kitchen with their empty cups and busied themselves with setting the table while her dad put the final touches on dinner.

Soon enough, the first course was served, and they all sat around the table decked in sprigs of mistletoe and holly, with seven candles lit in the centre.

Dinner was exceptional. Jaime really hadn’t been lying when he had said he could cook because the desert he had whipped up was one of the best Brienne had ever eaten. Jaime seemed very pleased with that development if the smug grin on his face was anything to go by as she complimented his dish.

The cleaning up was done in record time with Jaime’s extra pair of hands, and they soon found themselves with another round of tea in the living room.

Jaime’s arm lay casually along the back of the sofa his fingers playing with a few strands of her hair, but she was sure he hadn’t even noticed that he had started doing it.

Her dad had involved him in another discussion on swords, and while Brienne did have her own opinion on a lot of the matters they touched upon, she just listened, taking in Jaime’s animated gesturing with his right hand while his left kept firmly lying on the back of the sofa.

She basked in the feeling of his fingers in her hair and running along the nape of her neck, even though she kept reminding herself of what this really was. That none of these touches meant anything. Still, sat there, revelling in the sensations flooding her body as his fingertips set her skin on fire.

The shrill ringtone of a phone tore through that moment, jolting Brienne from where her head had come to rest against Jaime’s arm, and he scrambled for his phone.

“Sorry,” he said, looking truly apologetic, before looking down at the caller ID. He sighed and looked back up at her. “I have to take this. It’s my brother. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Brienne nodded, and Jaime slid his finger across the screen, accepting the call. “Hey, Tyrion. How are you?”

Jaime’s voice faded as he left the room, heading for somewhere he could be alone for a few moments.

“So,” her father started, redirecting his attention towards her, “How is work? How is the PhD going? I’m sorry we haven’t had more time to talk since you came.”

“Don’t worry dad, it’s fine.” She smiled. “Work’s good. We are currently working on a piece on the Battle of the Bastards and have found some interesting new pieces of information. Oh, on that note there is something I have to show you. You probably haven’t seen it yet.” Brienne was outright beaming as she remembered that she had taken the article about the Maid of Tarth with her so she could show her dad.

“What is it?” he asked, his interest clearly piqued.

“Jaime found this recently published article on old texts they found up in Oldtown, and we got some new insight on the Maid.” Brienne beamed. “Wait a second, I'll go get it.”

She got up from her spot on the sofa and sprinted up the stairs to her room, but when she reached the landing, she could hear voices filter into the hallway from her room. The door was cracked open just a bit, casting a ray of light into the otherwise gloomy space.

Jaime laughed at something his brother had said and then his voice came filtering through the door, “Yeah, pathetic might be the right word for it. I’ve never felt like this in my life. It’s like she doesn’t see it. It’s ridiculous. I really don’t know what to do, let alone how tell her.”

Without her permission tears welled up in her eyes as Jaime ripped her heart right out of her chest without even knowing. She knew he didn’t like her like that, but she had never thought he would be like this, laughing about how pathetic she was with his brother behind her back while playing at the loving understanding boyfriend upfront. She had thought they were past this. Past her suspecting him of being an arse just like every other man, but clearly, she had been mistaken in her leniency towards him. He was just like everyone else.

Brienne ran, uncaring of anything else. She wasn’t going to let anyone see her tears.

Scrabbling down the stairs, she called out to her dad, “Jaime’s still in my room. I’ll show you later I didn’t want to disturb him. And I think I’ll head out for a bit. It’s such a beautiful night.”

She was already clad in her coat, winding her scarf around her head when her father’s head poked into the hallway.

“You alright, little star?” he asked, concern heavy in his voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine, dad. Nothing to worry about.” She tried for a smile, but it ended up being a grotesque little thing that convinced no one.

Her dad was still looking at her, standing in front of him bundled up and ready to go, as she tried to will her tears to stay at bay until she was outside. Until no one was there to witness her falling apart.

“Okay. I love you,” he said, kissing her forehead. It was clear that he didn’t believe her, but he knew better than to make her stay or talk, and Brienne was eternally grateful for how understanding her dad was about her stubbornness.

Out the door, she went, and as soon as the cold night air enveloped her, the tears she had so ardently held onto, finally burst free, running down her cheeks.

Her feet carried her where they always did, down to the little strip of beach just down the cliff from their house. The path was treacherous and had she been a bit more clear-minded she would have probably deemed it too dangerous, but her feet carried her, down the steep path, slipping and sliding on the snow, her vision blurry from the tears.

She managed the descent unhurt, though how was beyond her and settled onto on outcrop of rock. This used to be her favourite spot, perched above the waves with the sun shining down on her. Today the beach lay quiet, covered in white instead of the usual gold of the fine sand she could almost feel between her toes when she tried hard enough. Today the sun wasn’t shining only the stars kept her company, and her childlike laughter had been traded in for tears.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, crying quietly while it got increasingly hard to breathe, staring out at the black sea sparkling with the light of the stars. It could have been minutes or hours, but eventually, she heard the tell-tale crunching and sliding of someone coming down the pathway. Brienne was sure it was her dad. No one else knew the way down here, especially not Jaime who had never been here before. Who didn’t know where she used to go when she was little.

But when the voice finally spoke to her, it wasn’t her father. It was Jaime. “Hey.”

She didn’t deign his greeting with a reply and continued looking at the sea. But Jaime leaned against the stone next to where she was sitting, stiff and cold and unmoving. “Are you alright,” he asked, his voice soft and hesitant.

“Go away,” Brienne told him, hugging her knees to her chest. She knew she sounded like a petulant little child, but she didn’t care. He needed to leave, to leave her alone. To disappear out of her life as quickly as he had slithered his way into it.

“Brienne – “ he started, but she cut him off, looking over at him with a glare that she liked to think would have incinerated lesser men.

“What are you even doing here? No one knows about this place except my dad and me,” she demanded to know, and Jaime looked sheepish all of a sudden.

“Your father suspected you might have come here and pointed me in the right direction.” The traitor. Of course, he had told Jaime. Damn him. Damn his meddling and his need to fix things.

“Leave. Now. That’s not a request.” Her voice was cold, but Jaime didn’t move. He didn’t even seem to be fazed by her sudden change in attitude towards him.

“No, not unless you are coming with me. You’ve been out here for almost an hour, and your lips have turned slightly blue. You need to get inside.” He sounded worried, but there was also a steeliness to his voice she recognised from herself.

Brienne looked away, her eyes once more travelling over the vast expanse of the sea stretching out in front of her, the stars shimmering on the black surface. But Jaime didn’t seem to like her cold shoulder, because moments later he was clambering onto the rock and sitting down beside her, draping his jacket over her shoulders. She hadn’t even realised how cold she had gotten until the warmth of Jaime’s jacket enveloped her and she couldn’t help but pull it closer around herself.

“What happened? I don’t even know why you are suddenly like this. All I know that I left and everything was fine, and I get back downstairs and suddenly you are gone, and your father had that worried look on his face, telling me you stormed off after you went upstairs to get something from your bag. Brienne, what did you hear?” Jaime was a bit breathless by the end of his little speech, but she was still not looking over at him, reminding herself that he was just like everyone else.

“Just shut up and leave.” Her tone was harsh, filled with all the hurt he had caused her as another tear slipped over her cheek. She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want him here. She wanted him far, far away. Out of sight, out of mind.

“I told you, I won’t. Not unless you come as well.” She laughed, full of sarcasm as she glanced over at him, the expression on his face foreign and new, but she didn’t bother to decipher what it might mean.

“Well, then we’ll be sitting here for a while,” she stated, pulling Jaime’s coat closer around herself. Next to her, Jaime shivered from the icy wind blowing in from the sea. Maybe he would leave if he got too cold.

But Jaime didn’t leave. He pulled his scarf down around his shoulders and his knees against his chest, just like she had and waited. Waited until she would talk. Waited until something would happen, but Brienne stayed quiet, unmoving, looking at the stars as tears slipped down over her cheek.

For some time Jaime didn’t notice that she was crying, but then his face appeared in front of her, his expression even more worried than before as he reached out to wipe away her tears and she pulled back.

“Don’t,” she warned him through clenched teeth, wiping the tears away on her own.

“Brienne, please tell me what happened.” His voice was soft, so unbelievably soft as if he didn’t know what he had done. How much he had hurt her, and it was the straw to break the camel’s back.

“Oh, don’t play as if you don’t know what the hell you did,” she almost yelled, her voice hoarse from crying and Jaime looked at her, flabbergasted.

“Brienne, I truly don’t.”

“Oh, fuck off. You were laughing about me with your brother. About how pathetic I am and how you didn’t know how to tell me. Well, there you have it. I know. I know that in your eyes I’m nothing more than a joke. That the thought of you actually touching me, kissing me, is so appalling to you that you basically scrambled out of bed this morning. You don’t need to pretend anymore. I know!” She was breathless afterwards, heaving breath after breath into her lungs as Jaime stared at her, almost horrified.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, seeming genuinely perplexed, but Brienne couldn’t help the snort that escaped her at his attempt of keeping up the charade.

“Really, Jaime? Just cut the crap.”

“No, Brienne, listen to me,” he growled through clenched teeth. “I don’t know what you are talking about because while I did talk to Tyrion I never so much as mentioned you being pathetic. Do you want to know what actually happened? Tyrion told me in no uncertain terms that _I_ was pathetic – “

“Yeah, of course. As if I’m going to believe that.”

“Tyrion told me,” Jaime said, his voice louder than Brienne’s, “ that _I_ was pathetic because I was mooning over a certain girl and I didn’t know how to tell her, you insufferable woman.”

Brienne blinked, the anger that had simmered under her skin, fading away.

“What?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper as her brain tried to process this new development. It stung, knowing that there was someone in his life that he cared for. It, however, explained why he had pulled back so suddenly this morning. “Why did you never tell me there is someone? Why did you even agree to do this if there is someone you actually care about?”

Jaime groaned again. Taking hold of her shoulders and turning her to face him. His green eyes glinted in the dark and the starlight gave his golden hair an otherworldly quality. And it once again hit her how unbelievably beautiful he was.

“Brienne.” He said her name like honey, dripping and sweet and it did things to her insides, sending her stomach swooping.

One of her lanky waves had fallen onto her forehead, and Jaime tugged it behind her ear, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as his hand settled on her jaw, his thumb stroking over her cheekbone, as he held her gaze. “I – I was talking about you.”

“What?” Brienne asked in utter bewilderment as her head went spinning. Her throat was suddenly dry, and for a moment, her heart seemed to have ceased beating before it was racing so fast that she feared it would beat out of her chest. “You – What? No – No, you can’t – You – “

Jaime chuckled softly, his eyes alight with that spark she so loved. “I can, and I do. You can ask my brother, he has been suffering ever since we met.”

“But why? I mean – You are you, and I am me and – why? How? I don’t – and you pulled away this morning as if you were burnt. I really don’t understand any of this.” She was rambling, she knew, but what was one to do when the man you had been drawn to for so long, that set your skin on fire with every touch, that you thought was unattainable, told you he liked you?

“Hey, calm down, breathe.” That sounded eerily familiar, but she suddenly realised that she had in fact not been breathing very well the last few minutes. So, she took a deep breath and tried to get her mind to settled down, which really was a task she wasn’t likely to achieve anytime soon.

“But Jaime – “ she started, but he placed his index finger against her lips, making a shiver run down her spine with how cold it was.

“I had dreamed of you, and then there you were in my arms as if that dream had come alive. I didn’t even realise I wasn’t even sleeping anymore. And then it came all rushing back, and I knew I wasn’t supposed to touch you like this, the way that I wanted. Because oh gods did I want, so retreat seemed the best option. I know it made the wrong impression, but I was overwhelmed, and I’m still sorry it happened.” He glanced at the space between them, not meeting her eyes, as her blood ran hot under Brienne’s skin. Had he really just said he wanted her? Had he told her he had pulled back because _he_ had been overwhelmed?

“Everything, every single word I spoke, every single touch, every single gesture was real.” That revelation was like a punch to her gut, and she felt tears well up in her eyes again.

“How? Why? I don’t – Jaime men like you don’t – you don’t – no!” she cried, the tears spilling over. “This isn’t a fairy tale.”

Jaime smiled, even though there was a hint of sadness there was well, and said, “There are no men like me, Brienne. Only me and I never lied to you. I might have not been able to tell you the whole truth about my feelings, but I never lied to you.”

She sobbed, and Jaime drew her into his arms. This time she went willingly, clutching at his shoulders, as her body heaved, trying to get oxygen back into her system.

“Brienne, what happened in high school?” he asked hesitantly, his breath ghosting across her skin as she looked up at him, his face blurred by tears. She had almost forgotten her father had mentioned it.

She hiccupped while Jaime went on to wipe the traces of the tears from her cheeks, his eyes never leaving hers. For a second, she hesitated, gnawing her lips again as she mused about telling him about her past, but they were here now, open and honest, and he had laid himself bare before her. It was only right that she would do the same for him and maybe it would show him why she was the way she was. Why him telling her all of this seemed unreal.

“Some boys in my junior year thought it would be fun to bet on who’d get me into bed first,” Brienne stated as matter-of-factly as she could, and she saw the instant Jaime’s jaw muscle tensed. “It never got that far, but men – Let’s just say I’ve been overly aware of how I look and had contented myself with the prospect of being alone. Until you came around and turned my world upside down.”

She took a breath and gave him a watery smile. “ You know how often I told myself to not get lost in the way every single one of your touches made me feel? That none of it was real?”

“But it is. It was. Do you believe me? I know it’s a lot, especially with the history you have with men, but – “ he trailed off, clearly unsure of what to say. He didn’t need to, she knew. She could see it in his eyes, those green pools that had drawn her in that first time and had never failed to do so ever since.

She just smiled at him, still a bit watery around the edges, but the blinding smile she got from Jaime in return was all the answer she needed. He knew, just as she did.

Brienne took his hand into her own, hesitant as she reached out, but bolstered by the knowledge that she was allowed now, that he wouldn’t pull or shrink away from her touch. His hand was terribly cold as she intertwined their fingers.

“Let’s get out of here. You are freezing.” She bit her lips, a bit bashful. “I’m sorry you had to – you know – become an icicle for me.”

But Jaime just smiled and didn’t even take back his jacket as he got up. “To be honest, if I had been in your headspace, I would have probably done far worse. Don’t worry. That said though, I’d really not mind getting back to the house.”

Brienne led the way back over the frozen beach and towards the pathway as something suddenly came to her mind that had her chuckling.

“Also, mooning? Really, Jaime? How old are you? Fourteen?” She could hear Jaime chuckling next to her as well and looked over.

“Well, I did a whole lot of looking at the moon back in Winterfell while thinking about you, so it only seemed appropriate to word it that way,” he explained in an overly sappy and romantic way which had them both laughing.

By some miracle, they made it back up the pathway without incident as well, the lights and imminent warmth of her home beckoning them to come closer.

Brienne had just inserted the key into the lock, when she turned around, missing Jaime’s presence next to her. He was chuckling again, shaking his head as he looked at her.

“What?” she asked, unsure what had him so amused.

“Have you seen that before.” Jaime pointed to above her head and true enough, the doorframe now did sport a bunch of mistletoe bound by a gaudy red bow.

Brienne groaned. “No, I’m fairly certain that‘s a new addition and one of my dad’s very subtle ways of meddling.

Jaime, however, was still grinning, taking a step closer to her. “Whatever are we going to do about the maiden trapped beneath the mistletoe” , he teased, his eyes alight with that spark of mischief and her throat was suddenly very dry.

“I think I saw yesterday at the museum that it’s bad luck if you don’t kiss someone standing under mistletoe and we really can’t have that, can we?” He took another step closer, his last word, low and barely more than a whisper as his eyes trapped her in place.

“May I?” he breathed, sending a shiver running down her spine as the back of his hand ghosted a feather-light touch over her cheek and settled at the nape of her neck.

Words failed her, and all that came out of her mouth was a very uncharacteristic mewling sound that Jaime took as agreement because his pupils dilated before he closed them, leaning in.

The first brush of his lips against hers was chaste as if he was testing the waters, seeing how much she was willing to give, but when Brienne’s hands reached up, grabbing hold of his jumper and pulling him closer, deepening the kiss, Jaime let all barriers fall away and kissed her with all his might.

His free hand snaked around her waist and pulled her flush against his chest, while he nibbled at her already abused bottom lip, but Brienne didn’t care. Her blood was singing, and she had never felt this alive, heat running like molten lava through her body, pooling low in her stomach.

She moaned, unbidden, the sound ripped from her throat, but Jaime took that as his opportunity to deepen the kiss further, delving into her mouth and acquainting himself with her tongue. 

She had never been kissed like this before. Like she was wanted, desired, but Jaime didn’t stop. He gave her everything he had, unrestrained and real and that knowledge alone had her mind spinning.

At some point, though they had to come up for air, panting and thoroughly dishevelled. But he didn’t let her go. He just kept holding her, leaning his forehead against hers, breathing together as his thumb stroked absentmindedly over her back.

“I’m not cold anymore,” he joked as her eyes met his, the green in them still almost completely swallowed by his pupils.

“Good. Me neither.” Brienne was hot. Everywhere. And it was all because of Jaime. “Still, we should head inside. I think we could both use a – “ bed. Damn. She could feel the blush blossoming on her cheeks though she wasn’t sure whether it would actually make a difference. Jaime only gave her a cheeky grin and pecked her on the forehead, unlocking the door and tugging her inside and up the stairs.

Brienne had almost thought he would lead her to her room, close the door firmly behind her and press her against it, kissing her even more senseless than she had already been before he would slowly peel off one article of clothing after the other. Only the thought, the prospect of it, made the heat course through her veins again.

But he didn’t. He kissed her neck when she came back from the bathroom, stowing away the clothes she had worn that day as he slotted his body behind her own and kissed the nape of her neck and the part where her shoulder met her neck, just like he had that morning. So much had changed since then, she could hardly believe it had only been less than 24 hours.

He mummed before he drew back, sending another wave of shivers down her spine and making goosebumps appear all along her arms.

“I’ll head for the bathroom real quick. You’d better be in bed when I come back. “ He smirked at her, grabbing his own things before the door fell shut and she was alone.

And with Jaime gone, her mind went into overdrive again. Musing on how everything could have changed so much in such little time. But every time she even so much as thought about Jaime telling her every moment they had spent together had been real, a fuzzy warmth bubbled up inside her that had her smiling to herself. She wasn’t dreaming. This, as unlikely as it might have seemed, was real, but adjusting to that new reality would probably take her a day or two.

She got into bed as ordered, but other than usual she laid on her side facing the door, waiting for Jaime to return. He returned as he had the last nights, clad in his KLU shirt and his briefs. But today a smile blossomed on his face as he saw her, dumping his clothes on his bag as he headed to take his place beside her.

The duvet rustled, the mattress dipped and then Jaime was next to her, still smiling but looking unbelievably tired.

“Come here,” he said, his voice warm and syrupy with sleep, as he held open his arms for her to shuffle closer on the bed. For a second, she hesitated, biting her lip, apprehensive, but she stomped on those feelings, wanting to cherish these first few moments they had together.

Her hand came to rest on his chest, directly over his heart and she could feel it beating beneath her palm, perhaps a bit faster than normal. Jaime’s arms snaked around her waist, and their legs were tangled beneath the sheets, her head resting in the crook of his neck.

“Goodnight,” he whispered into her hair, pressing a kiss to her lanky waves.

“Goodnight, Jaime. Sweet dreams,” she responded in kind and as she cuddled closer to him, his strong masculine lines pressed against hers, she didn’t feel like the freak, the beast that she had been painted as, but like a woman. Protected, cherished, wanted, loved.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late upload, but things went a little crazy, but here we are on New Year's Eve or New Years Day, depending on where and when this reaches you, so to all of you out there: Happy New Year!
> 
> Today I give you the last chapter, featuring a steamy wake-up call, some revelations and presents.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with this story through the holidays, for leaving a comment or a kudo, bookmarking or subscribing. You all made them that much sweeter for me.

When Brienne woke the next morning, she was aware of the rhythmic rise and fall of the chest beneath her hand and the sharp lines pressed against her body, the breath ghosting across her skin that stirred her hair ever so slightly and the muscles flexing underneath her hand.

Yesterday morning she would have pulled back as if burned if she had woken up pressed to him like she as now, knowing that she wasn’t allowed to touch him like this. She would have been embarrassed, blotches appearing on her cheeks and travelling down her neck as she would have tried to explain away her body gravitating towards his. Today, waking up with Jaime’s arm wrapped around her waist, had her cheeks warming as well, but for very different reasons. 

She basked in the knowledge that now she was allowed these touches, allowed to snuggle closer to Jaime’s side and revel in the warmth and easiness of this. Them. And she couldn’t help the small smile that started tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Good morning,” Jaime greeted her as she shifted, and she was instantly aware of his gaze on her.

“Have you been watching me sleep?” she asked, her voice filled with mock indignance as she pushed up onto her elbows to look up at Jaime in accusation. 

“I would never,” Jaime laughed, his lips already stretched into one of his signature smirks. 

Brienne groaned and fell back onto the bed, resting her head on Jaime’s chest as punishment.

“I don’t get why you’d do that. I’m not much to look at,” she stated, the light-hearted bantering suddenly turning a lot more serious than she had wanted when those words fell unbidden from her lips.

Jaime shifted underneath her, sitting up against the headboard, pulling her along so that her legs were lying over his lap, her side pressed to his chest. His hand had found its way back to her jaw, his thumb stroking over her cheekbone as he looked at her, while Brienne tried to avoid his gaze. 

“Do you want to know what I see?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper as he directed her eyes to his with the hand at her jaw, tilting her head so she couldn’t avoid his green pools any longer.

“I see hair, blond, lighter than my own. I like it when it falls into your face like right now”, he smiled, brushing one of her fallen waves behind her ear. “It makes you look – younger, softer maybe – but what I like most about it is that it makes you look less put together. Less like your hair is part of that armour you wear to work every day and more like _you_ finally shine through.” 

His eyes travelled over her face, taking her in as he lightly bit on his bottom lip, probably unsure of what to say next.

“Your eyes, gods Brienne, your eyes. They are what drew me in first. Blue and deep. Eyes to get lost in. Eyes that should be illegal and if you look long and close enough, you can see so much pass through them.” His thumb brushed over her cheekbone once more as he looked at her, holding her gaze and Brienne’s heart was racing in her chest all over again.

“And then there are these,” he smirked, as his hand vanished from her jaw and his fingertips lightly brushed over the milky skin of her exposed thighs. The simple feather-light touch let her shiver, setting her skin on fire and sending heat rushing to the pit of her stomach to settle there, hot and heavy and Brienne had to bite her bottom lips to stave off the sound that had risen in her throat. 

“Long and sinful, especially in those tight jeans you’ve been wearing the last few days,” Jaime whispered, his voice a bit rougher as his breath grazed her ear, making her shiver all over. “You have no idea how often I have thought of those legs wrapped around my hips, Brienne.” His voice was practically a low growl at that point, his hand having settled firmly onto her thigh and the whimper Brienne had so ardently tried to repress was ripped out of her without warning. 

Jaime’s eyes instantly turned a few shades darker at the sound, and suddenly he reminded her more of a lion looking at his next prey than a man.

“Fuck, Brienne,” he growled, looking at her with those eyes, his pupils blown wide so that only a silver of the usual green was still visible. “But what’s most important is everything underneath. You. Because I see you. I look at you, at your body and it tells the story of the woman living within. I want that woman. Every part of her. I want her, and I think I might – “Jaime didn’t get any farther, because Brienne took hold of his face, her heart thumping in her chest, her pulse frantic underneath her skin as she leaned in to kiss him. She didn’t think about morning breath or how sappy and overly romanticised Jaime’s words had been because this moment was like an epiphany just like the moment at the sept had been. He understood her. He saw her, and he didn’t see past her imperfections or liked her despite them. He saw her the way she was, accepted her the way she was and liked her for it. And that was something that only her father had ever been able to do. 

For a second Jaime seemed surprised by her actions, letting her kiss him, his hand still resting on her thigh until her tongue swiped along the seam of his lips, and his hands were suddenly on her hip, pulling her onto his lap, so she could kiss him deeper, more thoroughly. She was straddling him now, her chest pressed flush to his, her hands buried in the tresses of his golden hair as their tongues meddled. One of Jaime’s hands was in her hair as well, while the other was wrapped around her waist, keeping her close as she moved against him without even noticing. 

This time it was Jaime’s turn to groan, pulling away from the kiss breathing heavily. 

“We should stop now, or I won’t be able to anymore,” he growled, his voice low and thick, making goosebumps rise up all over Brienne’s skin.

She could feel the hard line of his cock pressing against her as she shifted and the heat pooling deep inside her stomach made her feel more alive than she had felt in years. 

She bit her lip, for a second avoiding eye contact, before she looked up at him through her lashes, finding Jaime’s dark gaze as she sheepishly whispered, “What if I don’t want to stop?”

“You’ll be the death of me, you insufferable woman. I try to be a gentleman, and all you think about is seducing me,” he growled, his stubble grazing over the sensitive skin of her neck and Brienne couldn’t help the involuntary rolling of her hip against his and the low moan that escaped her lips.

“Jaime,” she breathed, positively needy, her hands still fisted in his hair as she looked down at him, her eyes filled with heat. She wanted him. Now. “Please.” 

He groaned into the juncture of her neck, but went ahead, placing open-mouthed kisses all over the column of her neck, grazing his teeth along the corded muscle, letting his mouth nip and suck at her skin. 

Brienne had to close her eyes against the onslaught of sensations, glad for the hand in her hair steading her, directing her head this way and that while Jamie’s other kept her pressed to his chest.

That’s when a soft knock sounded from the door and they both sprung apart as if burned, scrambling back to their own respective parts of the bed as if they were still teenagers caught at their first attempts at fumbling. 

“Hey, are you two awake?” her father asked through the still-closed door.

“Yes, we’ll come down in a bit, just got up. We had a late night, sorry,” Brienne called back, and she could hear her father shuffling down the stairs.

She looked over at Jaime, catching his gaze and as they looked at each other, somehow they both started to laugh with the absurdity of the entire situation. 

“I told you we shouldn’t do it. Not here,” Jaime laughed, shaking his head and prowling over the bed to where she was standing beside it.

“Yes, yes you were right,” she admonished, but that didn’t lessen the heat still pooling hot in her stomach, and neither was the look Jaime was giving her from the bed. 

He got up and pulled her flush against him once more, his eyes still filled with the same heat coursing through her as well. “Just know that I do want you. Just maybe not here, in your childhood bed with your dad under the same roof,” he smiled. “I feel like a bloody teenager again.” 

“Jaime,” Brienne exclaimed, shoving against his chest, but Jaime just chuckled pulling her back against him and giving her another quick kiss. 

They headed downstairs after having taken turns in the bathroom. 

On their way to the kitchen, Jaime’s hand slipped back into hers. It’s almost weird how easy it was, how much she had gotten used to the weight of his fingers intertwined with hers, but it had.

Jaime just smiled at her, warm and soft, his green eyes shining with happiness, as they rounded the corner to the kitchen from where the smell of fresh pancakes and coffee kept luring them in. 

Her father was at the stove, flipping an almost finished pancake when he turns around to greet them. 

“Good morning,” he said, still having half an eye on the food on the stove, but Brienne saw his eyes shifting, taking them in. There was nothing outwardly different about them, Brienne was sure, but as her dad’s eyes took stock, a small smile started tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

He settled the pancake from the pan on the already towering stack on the plate next to him, before setting it down on the already set table. 

They eat and drink in silence, only the soft appreciative humming as they acknowledge how good the food is and the clink of cutlery on their plates filled the air and Brienne was almost sure that she had imagined that little knowing smile. That was until her father finally opened his mouth, fixing them with his icy-blue eyes.

“I knew this would happen,” he just said, that smile back on his face as he first looked at Brienne and then, longer, at Jaime. Brienne instantly started biting her bottom lip. 

“What – what do you mean?” she asked, hesitantly, but her father just looked at her like she was taking him for a fool. 

“This,” he gestured between them, vaguely, and Brienne still didn’t understand what he was going on about. 

“You and Jaime. Really getting together. Talking about feelings,” her father spelt out when she still hadn’t comprehended, and Brienne felt the heat returning to her cheeks and the tips of her ears. Damn him. He had known they hadn’t been in a relationship. Damn him for playing along all this time. 

“Dad,” Brienne exclaimed, unsure whether she did it because of her anger at her father being in the know all the time or the fact that he had just exposed them like he had. 

“What? I was rooting for you two,” he shrugged, grinning just as wickedly as Jaime sometimes did and Brienne didn’t like it one bit.

“Dad,” she exclaimed again, still horrified with how this conversation was going and then Jaime started laughing next to her. 

She turned to glare at him, but all Jaime did was raise his hands in defeat, though he didn’t stop laughing. 

“You are impossible, both of you.” She stared first at her father then back at Jaime, who’s thumb was now apologetically stroking over the back of her hand. 

“I’m sorry, Brienne. But in hindsight, we were terrible at pretending at this.” He looked at her with those green eyes of his and Brienne had to remind herself that she couldn’t get lost in them right now, because she was cross with him, at least a little bit. 

“Well, you weren’t so bad, Jaime. Brienne just really gave your game away,” Selwyn chimed in from the dishwasher were he was sorting the plates and cutlery into their respective places. 

Brienne groaned, Jaime laughed some more while her father looked like the cat that got the cream. 

“Damn you. Damn both of you. I’m going upstairs to get the presents, though I’m not convinced anymore either of you deserve any.” With that she got up, her chair making a very jarring scraping noise as she pushed it back. Jaime just kept laughing, his eyes shining like a lush green forest in the summer sun.

Brienne had just grabbed the presents from her bag and was on the way back downstairs when she ran into Jaime coming up the stairs.

“Hey,” he said, stopping her descend as his arm snaked around her waist. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed, but you should have seen the look on your face.” 

He was smirking, seconds away from chuckling and Brienne couldn’t help but glare down at him.

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop now, I promise,” Jaime admonished, raising the hand that wasn’t resting on her waist in defeat.

“Good, you should,” Brienne said, trying to extricate herself from Jaime’s hold and continue down the stairs, but she only got one step further down before Jaime stopped her again, now standing a step above her.

He smiled as their gazes met, his eyes bright and shining as he leaned down and whispered “I will” against the shell of her ear, sending another round of goosebumps to prick up along her skin. He drew back just enough to glance down at her once more, his blond eyelashes fluttering close before he pressed a soft, light kiss to her lips. 

It was different. Less frantic, less wrought with passion, but warm and comfortable as if Jaime had been kissing her for weeks, months even. As if he had kissed her like this, casually, every day. Like this wasn’t new and maybe a bit awkward, finding their footing, readjusting to this shift in their relationship. 

Jaime’s lips moved gently against hers, light and warm and a little bit chapped. For a second, his tongue licked across her bottom lip, as if asking for entrance, but that’s when he pulled back. The heat in those green eyes when they focused on her once more, though, spoke of a promise. A promise for more. 

Heat blossomed on Brienne’s cheeks, and her throat was suddenly dry. “I’ll head down. Don’t be long,” she said as she finally managed to extricate herself out of Jaime’s grasp and descended the stairs. 

“Oh, I won’t,” Jaime growled, taking two steps at a time before disappearing into their room. 

Soon enough, they had all gathered in the living room again, several brightly wrapped presents now lying beneath the tree. 

Jaime had brought a huge rectangular package down, wrapped in bright blue paper spotted in snowflakes. Brienne hoped he hadn’t gone overboard. They hadn’t really talked about presents when they had planned all this, but it had somehow felt weird not to have something for him on Sevenmas morning especially seeing as they were supposed to be in a relationship, so for days she had raked her mind about what to get Jaime. But now seeing the package that was reaching past her hip she thought they maybe should have talked about it. 

“So, shall we begin?” Selwyn asked, clapping his hands together while grinning over at them very much like an excited child and Brienne had to suppress a groan, hoping her father hadn’t planned anything _again._

For a short moment, he seemed to be looking for something, perusing the packages before he found what he was looking for. A flat rectangle, definitely an envelope, wrapped in red paper.

“Here you go little star, merry Sevenmas,” he said, still beaming, holding out the envelope. She heard Jaime suppress a chuckle next to her and she couldn’t help but glare over at him. His eyes were sparkling with mirth once more as he raised one of his eyebrows in question, clearly amused by her father’s nickname for her.

“Thanks, dad.” She pulled him close, enveloping him in a hug as he pressed the envelope into her hand.

Brienne cautiously started lifting the tape, trying to not tear into the paper like she had when she was young. She was stalling a bit afraid of what she would find within the envelope. But then the paper fell away, and there was nothing left for her to do but open it and reveal the content within.

Two pieces of paper fell out of the envelope, unmistakably tickets, and her heart began to sank a little. What had her father done now?

“It’s for you and Jaime,” he grinned, proud and happy as she turned over the two slips of paper. Plane tickets. Plane tickets to bloody Dorne.

“Dad, you can’t do this. I have to work, and Jaime has to do research –” she started, but Jaime interrupted her before she could really get to a frenzy, placing one of his hands on top of hers.

“Thank you, Selwyn,” Jaime smiled at her dad, and she couldn’t help but look from one to the other repeatedly. 

“I thought it would be nice for you to get out. You work so much, Brienne. I even called Catelyn and made sure it was okay. She was completely on board,” her dad explained, but Brienne only got more horrified by the second.

“You called my boss?! Dad!” 

He looked sheepish, and Jaime still seemed way too amused by the whole situation unfolding. 

“I’m sorry, Brie, but you could really use a holiday, and I knew you’d never take one yourself.” Brienne rolled her eyes at her father, throwing up her hands in defeat.

“This is just so you,” she told him frustrated. “First, all you focus on is getting me into a relationship and now this,” she waved the tickets in front of him. “Its all a bit much, I’m a grown woman, dad. I’m not your little star anymore, not like I used to.”

Her father suddenly seemed slightly hurt, looking a bit dejected by her outburst, and she instantly felt terrible. All he ever did was look out for her, she understood that. She was his only child, his only family, and he wanted to make sure she was okay, taken care of, happy.

“I’m sorry, dad. It’s just – You don’t have to look out for me like this. I know you love me but calling my boss and booking a vacation behind my back is just a bit too far, okay? That said, it’s not that I’m not grateful. I _could_ really use a holiday,” she smiled at him, pulling him into another hug. “Thank you.” 

“No problem, little star.” 

“I’ll hold her to that,” Jaime chimed in from behind them, smiling at them both. “She really could do with a holiday, and I’ll make sure she’ll take me.”

“Good! I expect the two of you to send pictures,” her father announced releasing her from their hug. 

Next, Brienne handed her dad the present she had bought for him and the book, a rare out of print edition he had been looking for had elicited a massive smile from him.

“So, what did you get me, wench?” Jaime asked, his eyes shining, the nickname falling from his lips like honey.

“It’s –” she blushed, looking at the new rectangular package in her hands. She had tried and tried to think of something to give Jaime, even though they hadn’t talked about it when making their plans, but it had only seemed right. He was supposed to be her boyfriend, and as such, she was expected to give him a gift, and she had felt bad anyway, dragging him out to Tarth to suffer through her father’s insistent questions. She had wanted to give him something. Something that wouldn’t be out of line for her to give as a girlfriend but something that wasn’t overly sappy or emotional either. It had been hard coming up with something seeing as she hadn’t known Jaime that well, but one evening when they had been talking the perfect gift had presented itself. It wasn’t anything special really, but he had seemed excited, so she had bought it, not thinking of the implications the gift might have. Those might be vastly different now with the recent shift in their relationship.

“It’s nothing special, but –” she trailed off, biting her bottom lip and handing the envelope over. 

Jaime looked just as excited as her father had and tore into the paper quickly, revealing the white paper beneath. With a few nimble moves, he had the two tickets extracted, and they were lying on his lap.

“Oh no, you didn’t!” Jaime exclaimed in excitement, beaming over at her with happiness. “We are going to see the exhibition on Goldenhand and Blue Knight?” 

Brienne nodded, her lip still trapped between her teeth, bowled over by Jaime’s reaction. He had said, “we”. She had wanted to tell hint to take Tyrion or maybe one of his colleagues from KLU. She hadn’t expected him to take her. The tickets were for a date in over half a year, long after Jaime would be back up in King’s Landing again, and still, he beamed at her, waiting for her to agree. To say something.

“Sure – if – uhm – if that’s what you want,” she stuttered, but Jaime just took hold of her and pressed a quick happy kiss to her lips.

“Of course that’s what I want,” he told her, looking into her eyes, imploring her to believe his sincerity. And she did. Because his eyes were bright with hope. They had plans now. A holiday. An exhibition. This wasn’t over when they left Tarth. It would just be the beginning.

“Okay,” she whispered in agreement, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as well.

“Good.” 

Jaime was still beaming when he set aside the tickets and the envelope to reach under the tree for the last gift. 

“This is for you,” he told her, sliding over the considerable package she had seen which reached past her hip when standing upright.

“So, this is what warranted the bag you brought. I had thought you would change outfits every hour by how many clothes that thing could fit,” Brienne teased, fiddling with the wrapping.

Jaime only shrugged, smirking, but not saying anything else while he watched her. 

The wrapping paper revealed a beautiful wooden box, worked intricately with patterns carved all over the lid and the sides. 

Brienne’s fingertips brushed over the groves on the wood, following the patterns here and there before her fingers lay on the latch.

“Open it,” Jaime encouraged, still smiling, but it had turned soft and hopeful around the edges.

Brienne unlatched the lid, lifting it and her heart literally stopped beating for a second or two, and she looked down at what lay before her. 

Oathkeeper.

It wasn’t the real one, she knew, but it was the most accurate, breathtakingly beautiful model of the sword she had ever seen.

“I told you it was yours. It will always be yours,” Jaime whispered as her eyes found his.

“Jaime,” she breathed in response, unable to say anything else or process more coherent thoughts than that. 

Jaime had given her a sword. Jaime had given her Oathkeeper.

She reached out, letting her fingertips trail over the filigree worked into the handle. It felt real. It felt like the real thing. And when she lifted it out of the box, felt it’s weight in her palm and saw the red steel shift she was almost fooled into believing it was the real one. Even the ruby in the hilt glinted with fire as if it were alive in the shine of the lights.

“Jaime,” she breathed again, still looking at the sword in awe.

“It isn’t the real one, but I thought, the least you deserved was the next best thing.” He was smiling and she could feel those green eyes focused on her. “You are just as much a knight at heart as she was.” 

Tears started welling up in her eyes as she looked at him.

“This is too much. I can’t –” she started, but Jaime interrupted her.

“You can, and you will. This sword is yours.” He pointed to some edging around the base of the blade. The beautiful lettering spelt her name and the title Jaime had just given her “a knight of the seven kingdoms at heart”.

The sword clattered back into the velvet-lined box as she reached out for Jaime and pulled him close.

“Thank you. You really shouldn’t have – “she began, but once more, Jaime halted her.

“It’s what you deserve. All of it.” He smiled, and Brienne couldn’t help herself and pulled him into another, longer kiss.

That’s when the doorbell rang.

“Well, I guess we are done with the presents as it is. I’ll go answer the door,” her father announced as he got up.

Jaime pulled back, looking at her with that mischievous sparkle in his eyes as she heard her father open the door.

“Package for Mr Selwyn Tarth,” a voice announced and Brienne looked at Jaime questioningly, but Jaime just shrugged feigning innocence. Brienne though knew, knew by the look in his eyes that he knew exactly what was going on.

A few moments later, her father returned with another large package, a bewildered look on his face. 

“Why is there mail today? It’s a holiday?” He looked confused down at the rectangle in his arms. It was only slightly smaller than the one Brienne had just unpacked, and she couldn’t help but look over at Jaime in question again, silently asking, “What is this?”

Jaime just smirked and told her father,” Just open it. It’s your Sevenmas present. Well, it’s more than that, but you’ll see.”

Paper went flying as her father tore it away, revealing another wooden box, this one less intricately worked and when her father opened it, he gasped. 

Brienne was on her feet in an instant, scrambling to her father’s side to look over his shoulder. And there, nestled in red velvet, lay the companion to Oathkeeper. The red steel shone in the light, and the golden hilt glittered. 

“I thought this would be better off with Oathkeeper at the museum. It’s a work of art, and just like Oathkeeper, Widow’s Wail should be seen and appreciated by the people that care for it and not rot in a vault to never see the light of day. It’s too beautiful for that.” Brienne knew she was gaping at Jaime and her father was probably as well. This was the real deal. Jaime had given her father the sword he had wanted at the museum since she had been a child.

“Jaime,” she breathed, unsure what to say, what to do. He was impossible. Giving away a sword. Giving heartfelt speeches. How was he even real?

And then it dawned on her. This was why he had looked so wrung after he had vanished to make a call the first time. He had indeed called someone in his family, and he had done it for this. To get the sword out. 

“How?” Brienne couldn’t help but ask, and Jaime smiled at her, still sitting on the floor in front of the Sevenmas tree. 

“It’s mine. My father gave it to me when I turned sixteen, but we kept it in the vault ever since. That’s why my father never let it out or lent it to the museum. Because it’s mine. I never knew about the museum asking for it or it would have been here all along because I never knew what to do with it. It’s priceless and beautiful, but you can’t really use an ancient Valyrian steel sword as décor. So, when we talked and you told me you had asked for it so often, I knew you needed to have it. I saw how well kept Oathkeeper is so I know it will be in good hands and the two swords really shouldn’t be separated.” He smiled, shrugging as if it were nothing. 

“Jaime,” Brienne couldn’t help but say again, breathless and in awe with this man sitting in her father’s living room. And then she was suddenly back on the floor, kneeling in front of him, her arms wrapped around his neck as she looked down at him, her forehead resting against his. 

“You are impossible,” she breathed, shaking her head slightly, but Jaime just kept beaming, his gaze fixed on hers.

“I’m here am I not? So, not quite as impossible as you think,” he teased grinning.

“Maybe not,” she agreed and kissed him, slow and gentle, her lips moving against his with leisure. 

“Merry Sevenmas, Brienne” Jaime whispered against her skin as he grew back, his green eyes alight with happiness. 

“Merry Sevenmas,” Brienne responded, touching her forehead back to his as she fingered his silky hair.

Maybe she hadn’t expected it all to turn out like this. Hadn’t expected to find herself wrapped in the arms of an impossible man like Jaime. Someone who took her for who she was. Maybe she had really convinced herself she hadn’t deserved any of this. Being loved. For that was what she felt this was blossoming to be. But here she was, Jaime smiling up at her with that look in his eyes, warm and happy and soft and she knew. She knew he loved her even though he hadn’t said it. Not in so many words. But she knew. And that, more than all the material things, was her own little Sevenmas miracle. 


End file.
